


A Trek Less Ordinary

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angels, Dark Comedy, Heaven, M/M, Matchmaking, Romantic Comedy, star trek AOS a life less ordinary fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two angels are dispatched to get a spoiled rich kid and a janitor down on his luck together in "holy bliss," they get more than they bargained for. Or...the Star Trek AOS fusion with the Ewan MacGregor and Cameron Diaz comedy, "A Life Less Ordinary."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trek Less Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Star Trek fused with the Danny Boyle comedy "A Life Less Ordinary." How 90s am I getting right now? SOOOOOOOOOOO 90s. 
> 
> I realize no one but me and my beta have seen this movie, but I couldn't resist! It's just SO Jim and Bones. 
> 
> You do not have to have seen the movie in order to get this fic. It's pretty self-explanatory and straightforward. It is a bit dark in places, though, as a head's up. 
> 
> There are cameos and references to tons of Trek characters other than the ones I listed in the tags. Those are just the major players. I promise everyone's in here in some capacity.
> 
> If you've ever wanted to see Spock curse, this is the fic for you! He gets the best line in the entire thing, and when you see it, I'm sure you'll understand why I kept the curse word. It's something I think Spock thinks a lot regardless of the reality he's in, so I kept the line.
> 
> Beta'ed by the lovely [handwithquill](http://handwithquill.livejournal.com)! Thank you again so much for helping me!

The main thing about Heaven was that everything was white.

The walls were white, the furniture was white, the marble of the floors was pure white, everyone only wore all white, and even the food was white.

The archangels’ offices were set up like an Earth police station, only again, they were pure white. It was just before lunchtime on a Tuesday, and the place was filled with bustling activity. 

Yelling could be heard from one office in particular as two angels sat on a bench, waiting to be told to enter. The first was a tall, pale, thin man with a bowl cut who wore a white trench coat, white suit with white tie, and a white fedora. He had died in the 1920s due to mob warfare. The second one was a striking African woman with her hair in a long ponytail. She had died in the 1960s, so she wore a white minidress with white stockings and go-go boots. A white on white scarf sat knotted at her neck.

Pike continued his tirade, and the two angels did everything they could to not eavesdrop. This, of course, proved to be impossible.

A loud thud filled the air, followed by the distinctive noise of a phone getting slammed down. Pike’s door opened, and he jerked his head at the pair. “Get in here,” he said. 

Without hesitating, the man and the woman stood. The woman smoothed out a wrinkle on her skirt, and they followed Pike into his office. He slammed the door closed behind them. 

Pike strode over to his desk, pointing at a large stack of white file folders. He opened one, glancing over its contents. “Divorce,” he proclaimed as he threw the folder across the room.

The angels glanced at each other but didn’t comment.

He opened the next folder. “Had an affair with her sister,” he said, tossing the folder like he did the first one.

That time, they winced.

He opened the third folder. “Divorce again,” he said. He picked up the fourth. “Divorce,” he picked up the fifth. “Miserable marriage.” The sixth folder. “Divorce.”

The woman sighed. The man took off his coat, hanging it on Pike’s rack.

“Divorced, remarried, divorced _again_ ,” Pike shouted. “Irreconcilable sexual disharmony! Divorce! Fourth marriage!”  
The woman, who now sat on the edge of his desk, opened her mouth to protest. At the look on his face, she decided against it.

Pike swept his arm across his desk, knocking all of the folders to the ground. They stared at him, unsure of what to say.

Pike put his hands on his hips. “Well? Talk to me.”

The woman adjusted her scarf. “We…it was a bad run,” she began. 

Her partner cleared his throat. “What Uhura means is that the times have changed considerably since we were both alive. People engage in courtship rituals in different ways now.”

“Things have changed, huh?” Pike was unmoved. “Yeah? Well things are changing up here. I’m getting a lot of pressure from _above_ ,” he said, and they exchanged a worried look. “People need to be bonded in eternal bliss, not this shit where things are fine for two years and then peter out.”

Both of them raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“In the meanwhile, we have some new…incentives for you,” Pike continued. “Just for our leading operatives, of course.”

“Leading operatives?” The male angel folded his hands behind his back, but the expression on his face was pure interest. 

“Yes, that would be the pair of you, Spock,” Pike said. 

“Your flattery is transparent,” Spock said. “Speak plainly.”

Pike picked up the one remaining file on his desk. He passed it to Uhura. “This one isn’t going to be easy. In fact, it’s probably the most difficult assignment I’ve ever given you, but you have my utmost confidence.” He shrugged. “And if it doesn’t work you…you don’t come back.”

“I beg your pardon?” Both of Spock’s eyebrows rose.

“You can’t be serious,” Uhura said.

“I’m as serious as a heart attack,” Pike said. “Get them together. Get them married, or else you stay on Earth for the rest of your immortal lives.”

“This is outrageous,” Spock continued.

“You’re the best chance we’ve got. Unite them together in holy bliss,” Pike said with a wave of a hand. “Once you do that, you can come back. No harm, no foul.”

Spock’s brows furrowed and his jaw set tight. “I cannot believe…”

“It’s _out of my hands_ ,” Pike protested. 

Uhura and Spock stared at each other. Without another word, Spock stalked over to her. She held up the folder so they could both see it. Opening it, its contents glowed with a holy blue light.

They were fucked.

\-----

In Beverly Hills on ten acres of premium real estate, a tall blond man stepped out of his mansion in a tight pair of black swim trunks and Burberry sunglasses. He tossed the sunglasses into a chaise, stepped to the deep end of his Olympic sized swimming pool, and dove in.

He did several laps freestyle before switching to the backstroke. While he swam, a bald-headed servant came out in a full butler’s uniform. He carried a sterling silver tray, setting it on a table near the chairs. On this tray were an apple, a glass of water, and a lacquered box.

The young man finished swimming, pulling himself out of the pool. Without a word, he stepped over to the table with the tray, slicking his hair back. He opened the box, revealing a silver and pearl-handled revolver and six bullets. He tossed the apple to the servant and walked around the edge of the pool to the other side.

The servant wordlessly took the apple and placed it on top of his head.

As the young man walked, he loaded the bullet into the chamber, spinning it so it was in proper position. He stood exactly across from the other man, closing one eye and aiming the gun. 

With practiced ease he fired, taking out the apple and leaving his servant without even a scratch. 

For the first time in days, he smiled.

“Well done,” a voice called from towards the house. A man stood on the steps leading to the pool; he had black hair, blue eyes, and wore a black Armani suit. “Excellent shooting, Jim.”

The smile ran away from Jim’s face. “Care to try your luck, Gary?”

“With the gun?” Gary descended the stairs.

“With the fruit,” Jim said with a roll of his eyes. He walked back around the pool, reclining in one of the lounge chairs and placing his revolver back in the box. 

“I don’t have time for games,” Gary answered.

Jim didn’t respond at first, putting his sunglasses back on his face and taking a sip of the water. “If you’re too chicken-shit you can just say so.”

Gary stood next to his chair; the look in his eyes was pure exasperation. “Jim, last night we discussed a certain…proposal…”

Jim growled. “And I told you _no_ because you _cheat_ , Gary.”

Gary shrugged. “I flirt; I don’t cheat. It’s my nature. You wouldn’t ask a tiger not to hunt.” He put his hands in his pockets. “You should think about this. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a good husband in this town? Let alone a good dentist…”

Behind his sunglasses, Jim rolled his eyes again, something he did a lot when Gary would speak. 

Gary took another step, crouching down next to Jim’s chair. Jim shifted away from him as far as he could. “Jim? I’m serious.”

Jim lifted the sunglasses and turned to him. “Prove it. Robau?”

“Yes, sir?” the servant said.

“Another apple.”

“Very good,” Robau said as he hurried back into the house. Gary gave Jim a curious look.

Jim quirked up the corners of his lips, but didn’t smile. “It’s very simple. We’re going to play. If you move…the offer’s canceled.”

Jim could see the realization dawn on Gary’s face. “Wait you mean…what you just did…but with me?”

Jim put a bullet in the revolver and spun the chamber. “It’s the only way, Gary.”

Robau reappeared with another apple. He handed it to Gary, who stared down at it in his hand. 

“Stand here,” Jim said. “I’ll walk away.” He got out of the chaise, walking about a hundred feet away from Gary. Gary swallowed and placed the apple on his head. “As previously stated, your offer is rendered null-and-void if you move.”

Gary clenched his hands into fists. “Um…sure, Jim. Whatever you say.”

Jim aimed the pistol, again closing one eye. 

“Wait,” Gary began, holding up one hand as a sign of weak protest.

“Don’t talk, damn it,” Jim said. “You’ll blow my concentration.”

“You really think this is wise?” Gary continued. 

Jim adjusted his aim. “Jesus, stop putting me off.”

Silencing himself, Gary frowned. They stared at each other for a long time, before Gary could no longer take it. “Wait, wait,” he said as he suddenly moved. 

Unfortunately for Gary, this happened a smidge after Jim fired the gun.

The bullet hit Gary in the forehead, and he dropped like a sack of bricks. The apple, untouched, also dropped the ground beside him. Gary lay with one hand covering his forehead as he screamed.

Jim lowered the gun and sighed. “Robau?”

Robau looked to him with one eyebrow raised.

“Could you be a dear and call a doctor for Doctor Mitchell?” Jim walked back to the table, placing the revolver back in its chest. 

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” Robau said. 

It really was hard to find good help; luckily, Robau was a gem.

\-----

Leonard McCoy pulled out a note-pad and pen, looking across his lunch at his two coworkers in the janitor’s closet. He was a janitor for the Kirk Enterprises building; it wasn’t much, but he got by. The important thing was it paid enough for him to put a way a little bit each month for a ring for Jocelyn.

Hikaru and Scotty, the other janitors, also had their lunches on the table, and they listened to him talk.

“She’s the daughter of Marilyn Monroe and Jack Kennedy,” Leonard began. “Which is why Marilyn was murdered. But the girl doesn’t know this; she spends her formative years in orphanages. But she’s beautiful and brilliant, and when she grows up she becomes the US Ambassador to the United Kingdom…”

“Then what happens?” Scotty asked as he took a bite of his sandwich. 

“Well, then, she…”

Hikaru sighed. “She discovers who she is and unravels the secret of the Nazi gold hidden under the embassy or whatever.”

Leonard stared at him. “Well…yeah. Yeah. How did you know that?”

Hikaru shrugged. “It’s kind of obvious, Leonard.” Scotty nodded his agreement.

Frowning, Leonard stiffened his posture. “Well _of course_ it’s obvious,” he said. “It’s a trash novel. You buy them at the airport, and they last you just long enough for a commuter flight or whatever the fuck. Obvious is the point!”

The door to the janitor’s closet opened behind him, and Hikaru and Scotty made themselves busy. That could only mean one thing; their manager, only referred to as Number One, had arrived.

“Oh,” Leonard said, getting up. “Number One? I was just…we were about to go finish the fourth floor…” He grabbed his cleaning supplies. 

Number One smirked at him. “You might want to take a look at this first,” she said as she handed each of them an envelope. Leonard opened his, his dark brown bangs falling into his eyes as he did so.

What the actual fuck?

“You’re _firing_ us?” Leonard said, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“Effective immediately,” Number One explained. 

“You’re replacing us with robots. As if some little robot is going to get down on its little robot hands and knees and clean dust out of crevices,” Leonard said, his shock giving way to anger. “This is insane!”

“What’s insane is a janitor using his free time to write a trash novel. Not even a good trash novel, from what I’m told.”

Leonard looked at Hikaru and Scotty, who both were very interested in the tiles of the ceiling. “Oh, so this is personal then,” he said, giving her a cold stare.

Number One barked out a laugh. “Oh please. This has nothing to do with me; this comes from George Kirk himself.”

“Then maybe I should go have a little talk with George Kirk,” Leonard spat, opening the door to leave.

“It’s too late, Leonard,” Number One said. “You’re fired. Give it up.”

Leonard stared at her before slamming the door all the way open and storming out the building to his car. He checked his watch on his way; Jocelyn should have started her shift at Boyce’s. Without even checking to make sure the coast was clear, he backed out of his parking space and sped towards the bar. 

How could this happen? How could anyone do this to him? Replacing him with a robot…he was a person, for shit’s sake! A person with things like bills! How could he ever build a future for them now?

Again without checking traffic, Leonard peeled into Boyce’s parking lot. He parked the car and catching his reflection in the rearview mirror he saw he still had his janitor’s coat on. He whipped it off, throwing it onto the ground. He rolled up the sleeves of his paisley shirt and stomped into the bar.

He didn’t bother with a table and went straight to the bar proper, taking a seat at the counter. “Bourbon, double, up,” he said, and the bartender, whom he didn’t recognize, nodded and poured his drink.

Leonard needed to find work, but getting shitcanned was a better idea. His glass got passed to him, and he downed the bourbon in only a couple of swallows.

The bartender disappeared for a second, and when he came back, Jocelyn was with him. In spite of everything that happened, Leonard’s spirits lifted at the sight of her hazel eyes and blonde hair.

“Leonard, what are you doing here this time of day?” she asked as she set her tray on the counter. 

Leonard sighed.

“Answer me,” she continued. 

Forcing himself to meet her gaze, Leonard’s eyes were filled with pain. “Joce, I…I got fired.”

Jocelyn frowned and rubbed her temple with two fingers. 

“They replaced me with a robot.” Leonard shook his head. “I mean…a robot.”

“Yeah, well, I know how they feel,” Jocelyn said.

Snapping his head up, Leonard’s face filled with betrayal. “You’re kicking me while I’m down? Joce…”

Jocelyn wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Look, I’ve…I’ve been meaning to tell you this, I really have. It’s been going on for a while now. This is probably as good a time as any.”

For the second time that day, the world dropped from under Leonard’s feet.

“Leonard, I’m leaving you,” Jocelyn said. “His name is Clay. He’s an aerobics instructor, and we fell in love. I’ve been seeing him for months.”

“I don’t…what? You’re leaving me for an aerobics instructor?” Leonard choked.

“We’re moving to Miami together to start a new life,” Jocelyn said, and to her credit, she looked sorry.

“How could you do this to me? We were going to get married,” Leonard said, anguish plain in his voice. “Joce…”

“Because I want a _man_ , not a _dreamer_ , Leonard,” she said. Another server signaled to Jocelyn that one of her tables needed her. “Yeah, it was cute at first, but…pragmatism wins.”

“I can get another job,” Leonard begged. “Joce, we can…we can work this out. We can start over.”

“I’m sorry, Leonard,” Jocelyn said. “But as of tonight…you’re going home alone.”

With a sad look, she turned and went back to work. Leonard watched her go in shocked silence. 

The bartender handed him another bourbon. “Drink up, buddy, this round’s on me,” he said.

Leonard downed the drink with his eyes closed.

That double turned into another and another, and at last call, Leonard hailed a cab and drunkenly made his way home. He stumbled up to his shithole of an apartment, where a sign greeted him on pink paper.

It was an eviction notice.

“What the shit?” Leonard said, sobering up fast.

“Ah good, you’re home,” a woman’s voice called from outside. There was a window next to his apartment door, and he looked out it down below. There stood a tall pale man in a suit with, of all things, a bowl cut, and a gorgeous black woman dressed like a 1960s stewardess. “Mister Leonard McCoy?”

“Yeah?” Leonard said.

“Hello,” she continued. “We’re representatives from the Firm but Fair Collection and Eviction Agency. I’m Ms. Uhura, and this is my associate, Mister Spock.” The man gave Leonard a nod. “We have here a list of items we’re entitled to collect due to non-payment according to federal and state statutes. We are also the ones who served you with the notice of eviction, again in accordance with federal and state statutes.”

“But…I…I’ve been…” Leonard had nothing to say.

“We may proceed in this task with or without violence,” Mister Spock said. “It is entirely up to you. Our client will pay our medical bills, but not, I am afraid, yours.”

Leonard stared at them. “Without, I suppose.”

Uhura winked up at him with a smile. “Good call.”

A group of large burly men advanced on the building, and Leonard could do nothing but watch as all of his worldly possessions got taken away. He also had to surrender the keys to his car, explaining to them where it was parked. Then he watched as they nailed boards over his apartment door.

Leonard was left with little more than the clothes on his back.

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Mister Spock said to him.

“Have a great day!” Uhura added.

Leonard slid down so he sat on the stairs. He buried his hands in his hair, thinking over everything that happened in the last sixteen hours.

This was all George Kirk’s fault.

If Leonard still had his job, none of these things would have happened. But because he got fired…replaced by a robot…it kicked off the chain reaction of life serving him one shit sandwich after another. 

Leonard’s mood changed from despondent to blinding fury. 

The decision came from George Kirk. The only answer was barging in on George Kirk’s office and getting his job back. Leonard checked the time on his watch; it was six in the morning. It would be a couple of hours before anyone would be in the Kirk Enterprises offices. 

He checked his wallet; he had two hundred and thirteen dollars to his name. 

Leonard stood, his eyes lit up by anger and determination.

George Kirk didn’t know what he was in for.

\-----

At ten am, George Kirk stood, back to his office and facing out of one of his panoramic windows with a sour look on his face. His right hand curled into a fist, and his eyes were hard behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

“I absolutely, utterly, cannot believe this, Jim,” he said, his voice laced with acid.

In a leather club chair across the office, Jim sat with his legs crossed and a bored expression on his face. He wore a robin’s egg blue jacket over all black clothing. White leather driving gloves adorned his hands.

“Do you have _any_ idea how difficult it is to find a good husband in this town?” George derided. “Not to mention a good dentist.”

Jim examined his nails.

“Once again, you disgrace yourself, and by proxy, you disgrace me,” George continued, finally facing him. “The silver lining of this is that you caught Gary through the frontal lobe only. He’ll live, but he’ll never practice orthodontics again.”

Jim sighed.

“My main fear in all of this is that you’re going to end up exactly like your mother,” George said as he walked back to his desk. “She found her own…natural level in society, and you’re well on your way to sinking down to it yourself, scuttling along the bottom.”

“Her biggest problem was marrying a man like you,” Jim said. “A mistake that, in case you can’t tell, I’m taking great care to avoid.”

George gave Jim a withering stare; long since immune to it, Jim stared right back. His eyes lighting up, a smirk formed on George’s face. “You,” he said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Are going to go to work, my son.”

Jim leaned forward with his eyes wide from shock. “Wait, what?” His father couldn’t be serious.

“You’ve spent twenty-five years doing nothing but watching the tide flow in and out,” George said. “Starting tomorrow, you are going to work here under my supervision.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Jim said.

“You’ll learn the essence of business,” George said as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’ll learn all about money and how it relentlessly flows back to he who owns it. How to generate a loss from a profit, a profit from a loss. _You are going to work._ ”

The expression on Jim’s face was one of disgust and horror.

“This probably sounds unpalatable,” George said. “I’m sure you have to quell the urge to vomit at this very moment. That is only temporary. Before you even know it, you’ll get used to the taste, and then you’ll be spooning it down, begging for more like everyone else in the world.”

Before Jim could protest again, the office door slammed open revealing a brown-haired man in a tacky paisley shirt and jeans. He carried some kind of robot with him, and the expression on his face was furious.

Jim leaned back in his chair, his eyes following him with interest.

“Mister Kirk, I presume,” the man said as he strode into the room. “My name is Leonard McCoy. You really think you can replace me with a God damn robot?”

George’s expression was impassive. 

“Well, fuck you too,” McCoy said as he tossed the robot into one of the windows. The glass was triple-layered and tempered, and the robot glanced off it, landing upright on the floor. It started sweeping up the office, and the expression on the stranger’s face changed from anger to bewilderment.

Jim raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched.

Six security guards stormed the office, tackling McCoy to the ground. He thrashed underneath them. “No, God dammit, no he fired me, he _deserves_ this…” he groaned as the guards pummeled him with their fists.

Jim sat up straighter, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. Oh well. Back to his father’s tirade.

The man struggled underneath the guards before grabbing one of their guns. He removed the safety and pointed it at them. The guards put their hands up and backed off. 

“Nobody fucking move!” McCoy said. 

One of the guards reached back and punched him in the nose. He collapsed with a cry as blood poured out of it, and the guards beat him a second time. In the commotion, the gun got kicked out of his hand, sliding across the floor to Jim’s foot.

George smiled and turned his back on the struggle, watching the Los Angeles skyline.

Jim considered his father’s back before turning his attention to the fight. McCoy had mostly freed himself and reached out for the gun. Jim thought for all of two seconds before kicking the gun back to him. The man gave him a curious look before aiming the pistol up at the ceiling and firing a round.

The guards all backed off, raising their hands in the air.

“On the fucking floor,” McCoy said. They did as they were told, laying face down with their hands up on the back of their heads. Jim stood from his chair, moving to stand behind it. “Everyone!” he shouted as he aimed the gun at George.

George walked to the front of the desk and crossed his arms.

“I said _everyone_ ,” McCoy ordered. 

Behind him, the cleaning robot chimed four times. Without warning, he turned and fired two rounds into it, destroying it. He turned the gun back to George, who raised up his hands and knelt. He then lay down on his side. 

“I want my fucking job back, Mister Kirk! I want what I had before! And you’re going to oblige me, or I’m going to put a bullet in your brain! Are we clear?”

George held up his hands as if he surrendered for a minute before bursting out into laughter. 

“On the count of five,” McCoy said. “One…”

Jim rested his hands on the back of the chair. Freedom was his; he could taste it. All he had left of life under his father’s thumb was four seconds.

“Two…three…” He cocked the gun. “Four…” His hand shook.

The silence went on too long for Jim’s liking. “Five,” he called.

Turning to face Jim, McCoy shot George in the knee. His father yelled, grabbing his leg with both hands. The guards also screamed, burying their faces in the floor.

“What the hell did you say that for?” McCoy stared at him in shock.

“Well, five comes after four, right?” Jim said with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I know that, thanks,” McCoy said as he bent over, examining the gunshot wound in Jim’s father’s leg. 

“Well, I mean…I wasn’t sure. You could have dyscalculia, that’s dyslexia with math,” Jim said. “If you had some kind of issue with numbers, it wouldn’t matter. Unfortunately, a lot of simple things become problematic without access to a proper education…”

“Shut up,” McCoy said. His face had a strong pallor like a ghost.

“I was being helpful,” Jim countered. 

“Don’t need your help,” McCoy said as he grabbed his hair with both hands.

“You’ll die for this,” George said, his bloodied hands gripping the man by the shin. “I’ll have your heart on a platter.”

“Shoot him again, in the head this time,” Jim said, running over to stand next to him. “I’ll count to five the whole way.”

“Oh my God, seriously, shut up,” McCoy said. He then gave Jim a long, considering look. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“He’s nothing,” George said.

“I’m his son,” Jim said with a shrug.

McCoy stepped out of George’s grip, grabbing Jim by the arm. He pulled the gun up, aiming it at Jim’s temple. “You let me walk out of here right now, or I splatter his brains on your office wall.”

“Yeah, because you were so good at it the first time,” Jim said. He didn’t struggle in his grip; he let him hold him.

“I told you to shut up,” McCoy said. He dragged Jim backwards out of the office. None of the guards made a move to follow them. “That’s it, fellas. Just stay on the ground, and Kirk Junior lives to fight another day.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m not a junior, I’m named after my grandfathers.”

“For the last time, shut up,” he said.

Jim huffed as they walked through the office door and into the elevator. McCoy let him go but kept the gun trained on his head. He pushed the button for the garage, and down they went. The doors opened, and again he grabbed Jim by the arm, steering him across the concrete.

A group of chauffeurs stood before them having a conversation. At the sight of Jim and the man, they stopped laughing and stared. “Whoa, wait,” one of them said.

“Keys or he dies,” McCoy barked.

The chauffeur who spoke tossed them the keys. The…Jim supposed he was now a kidnapper, managed to catch them with his left hand, hitting the unlock button on the remote. He steered Jim to the car whose lights came on, opening the driver’s door and shoving Jim down into it. 

McCoy kept his gun trained on the chauffeurs as he got in on the passenger side. He shoved the keys into the ignition. “Drive.”

Jim didn’t move.

“What are you, deaf? I said drive!”

Jim’s exhale was sharp and loud. “I can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean, you can’t?” McCoy stared at him.

“I mean I can’t,” Jim explained, still looking straight ahead. The garage door opened, revealing several armed guards. “I never learned how.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I didn’t need to!” Jim turned to look at him. “My family employs drivers, if you must know, so it was never a necessity that I learn!”

“Well, you’re gonna learn now,” McCoy pointed to the floor under Jim’s feet, where two pedals sat. “The left one makes you slow down, the right one makes you go faster.” He then pointed to the gearshift in the center console. “The numbers are the gears, 1-4 make you go forward. R makes you go backwards, and just ignore P and N for right now. You can pick up the nuances later.”

Jim swallowed, gripping the steering wheel.

“Fucking drive already!” McCoy said.

Jim turned the key in the ignition, hearing the engine roar to life. He pulled the gear lever, putting it from P into 4. He then pressed the accelerator down as hard as it would go. The car’s tires squealed as they zoomed out of the parking spot, heading straight for the guards.

The guards all had the presence of mind to dive out of the way, and Jim managed not to sideswipe anything as he steered the car up the ramp and out into traffic, narrowly missing a collision from an oncoming car. He sped down the road, his eyes staying trained on the asphalt.

“Where are we going?” Jim asked once they were ten blocks away from his father’s building.

“Never mind that,” McCoy said as he buckled his seatbelt. “Just drive more carefully.”

Jim scoffed. “He cut in on me,” he said with a point back to where they came from.

“Mirror, signal, maneuver,” McCoy said. 

Jim rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

They drove in silence except for the occasional directions from the kidnapper. The scenery became less and less urban until they were in the middle of nowhere. A sign proclaimed the next gas station to be the only one for thirty miles. “Pull in here,” the kidnapper said.

Jim did as he was told, clumsily stopping the car by slamming on the breaks. The kidnapper shot him a dirty look, and Jim shot him one back.

A young boy of about seventeen with curly hair and a uniform approached the car. He smiled and waved at them, and Jim lowered the window.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a Russian accent. “My name is Pavel, and welcome to our service station. We of course provide many amenities, including an extensive retail facility in addition to washrooms. I am here to help you in any possible way I can.”

Jim smiled at Pavel. His enthusiasm was charming.

“Is this a gas station, Pavel?” McCoy asked.

“Well, yes sir,” Pavel said.

McCoy ripped the keys out of the ignition and threw them at Pavel. “Then fill up the car and cut the crap.”

Pavel picked the keys up off the ground, and with another smile, he ran to get the fuel pump. Jim turned to the kidnapper, giving him a pointed and cold stare.

“What?”

“He was just doing his job,” Jim said. “He was being helpful and courteous.”

The kidnapper’s eyes, which Jim now noticed were a dark mossy green, softened a great deal. The look on his face was that of shame, and he opened his mouth once before closing it. 

Jim shrugged. “You’re in a shitload of trouble, you do realize that?”

McCoy didn’t say anything.

“My father will have you killed,” Jim said. “I hope you also realize that. Of course you’ll be tortured first.”

Pavel had a squeegee and cleaned their windshield. Jim favored him with a smile.

“But yeah, you’re most certainly going to be killed,” Jim finished. “All that’ll be left of you is your bones.”

Throughout Jim’s speech, McCoy grew more and more pale until finally he was the same white as Jim’s gloves. “But what…what if I let you go?”

“I don’t know,” Jim said. “You tell me. You think if you give me back he’ll just forgive you?”

McCoy’s jaw and eyes hardened. “Wait a minute. Your father treated me like I’m a piece of shit. He treated me like I don’t matter. He made me feel like I was disposable. What do I have to be forgiven for? _He’s_ the one who fucked _me_ over.”

Pavel, who had come back to the window, cleared his throat. “That is a full tank, sirs.” He held out the keys, and Jim took them with a wink.

“Thank you, Pavel,” Jim said.

McCoy held out enough money to cover the gas, and Pavel took it. He then held out a twenty. “This is for you, Pavel.”

Pavel took the twenty with a curious expression.

“You’re a man, Pavel,” McCoy said. “Not a slave. Not a machine. You’re irreplaceable. Don’t ever let anyone treat you otherwise.”

Pavel gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir. You have a safe drive.”

McCoy turned to Jim. “Go on.”

Jim’s expression soured, but he turned the key in the ignition and drove. In the rear view mirror, he saw Pavel watch them leave with a wave.

\------

After an uneventful night and less eventful morning, Leonard returned to the cabin in the mountains he and Kirk Junior had…borrowed. Having a basic understanding of how keeping a hostage worked, Leonard tied the kid up and gagged him all night and day, leaving him there while he went out for supplies.

Reaching his hand through the broken window to unlock the door, Leonard opened it and stepped inside. “I’m…” He stopped and stared at the now empty chair, covered only in the ripped sheets he used to tie his victim.

The sound of paper rustling caught his attention, and he turned to see the kid lying on a couch reading a book.

Leonard put the bag down on a table. “What the hell?”

“You obviously weren’t a Boy Scout,” the kid said without looking up. “Those knots were like…insanely easy to undo.” He flipped the page. “Even one-handed, I mean.”

Leonard saw that Kirk removed his jacket, sitting in only a black t-shirt and his black slacks. He had even kicked off his shoes, and his socks were black with thin white stripes. “Enjoying the book?”

“Nope,” Kirk Junior said. “It’s garbage and trashy. These two people meet, they fall in love, happily ever after…it’s the biggest fucking piece of bullshit I’ve ever read. I don’t know why I’m bothering.”

“Not a fan of romances then,” Leonard said, as he glanced at the cover. _Perfect Love_ was proclaimed in a fancy, girlish script on a red background. “You know, I’m writing a book myself. A lot of people say that, but in my case it’s actually the truth. It’s…”

“I don’t fucking care,” Kirk said. “I don’t care about you. I don’t care about anything to do with you or your plans to change up your miserable little mundane existence.” He turned the page. “I just want to read my book in peace.”

“You called it bullshit.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not enjoyable.”

“You just said you don’t know why you’re bothering,” Leonard said.

“A man can change his mind,” the kid said as he turned the page again.

“All right, I think I need to set down some ground rules,” Leonard said, and the kid glanced up at him. “I’m not here to hurt you, but I am the kidnapper, and you’re…”

“The victim,” the kid said with a sigh. “Got it. I’ve been through this before.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow as he contemplated tying him up a second time with the duct tape he just bought. “Kidnapped before?”

“Yeah, I was twelve,” the kid said, going back to the book. 

“Jesus, that’s…that’s _awful_.”

“It was a long time ago,” was the answer as he turned the page. He dog-eared the corner, giving Leonard his full attention. “Are you going to try to have sex with me?”

Sputtering, Leonard choked out a, “No!”

“That’s not what you brought me up here for?” the kid said. “I mean, we’re alone up in the mountains. No one knows where we are. No one’s around for miles to hear me. And I…well, I look like me.” He gestured to his body, which Leonard had to admit was damn good. 

“No, that’s…not what I brought you up here for,” Leonard answered. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

The kid gave him a long, appraising stare. “So it never even occurred to you at all?”

“No!” Leonard opened his mouth for a second. “Well, maybe…no!” He shifted from one foot to the other. “No. No, I am not going to rape you.”

The kid changed position so he sat cross-legged on the couch facing Leonard. “Do you have a problem with sex?”

“No,” Leonard said, growing agitated. What the hell was his damage?

“Oh, so you’re just _scared_ of it,” the kid said with a look on his face like he solved some kind of great riddle. 

“For shit’s…no!” Leonard turned his back to him, stalking to pick up the groceries and take them into the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re just nervous then,” the kid said.

“Oh my God, I’m not nervous,” Leonard shouted as he put the steaks in the fridge. 

“Okay, then calm down.”

“I am perfectly calm,” Leonard said as he slammed the meat drawer closed in the old Frigidaire. “I am just trying to explain to you that there is absolutely _zero_ sexual motives to what I’ve done.” He set the duct tape out on the counter and put the asparagus in the crisper drawer.

“Glad we cleared that up,” Kirk Junior said.

Leonard picked up an apple and took a bite, turning to face the kid. “So what’d they do now? Your other kidnappers.”

Shrugging one shoulder, it took a minute for him to reply. “They stuck a needle in my left arm and drew a pint of blood. Then they mailed it to my father every week until he paid up.” The expression on his face filled with anger and pain. “He waited _six weeks_ to give them what they wanted.”

Leonard’s eyes widened and his jaw fell. “Jesus…he…”

“That’s what happens to the victim,” the kid said, his expression smoothing out to be more neutral. 

“So compared to them, I’m not doing such a bad job,” Leonard said, changing the subject.

“Not really, Bones,” the kid said. 

“Bones? What?” Leonard stared at him. “Why’d you just call me Bones? My name is Leonard.”

“And mine is Jim but you insist on calling me Kirk Junior or kid,” the kid, no _Jim_ said. “Turnabout is fair play, Bones.”

“It’s not worth arguing about,” Leonard said, because it wasn’t. “I’m making dinner. How do you like your steak?” Jim didn’t answer him, and when Leonard turned to ask why he saw the look on Jim’s face was that of offense and outrage. “Why are you looking at me like I just reneged on not raping you?”

“I don’t eat red meat,” Jim said. 

Leonard stared at Jim. Unbelievable. “There are potatoes and asparagus, you can eat those.”

“Just don’t put them on the same plate. They’ll be contaminated.”

Fighting the urge to punch Jim in the face, Leonard bit off a growl. “Do you eat fish? And poultry?”

“Yes, but not eggs unless I know they’re free range,” Jim answered. 

Turning around, Leonard pointed at him. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you don’t like red meat?”

“You didn’t fucking ask,” Jim said. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I _do_ like meat. I just choose not to eat it for moral reasons. If you had taken ten seconds, just ten fucking seconds to ask…”

Leonard snapped. “Why in God’s name are you such a fucking piece of shit to be with?”

_Because you kidnapped me and tied me to a chair all night_!” Jim stood from the couch, drawing himself up to his full height. “Because I’m the victim, and you’re the alleged kidnapper.”

“Alleged? What is that supposed to mean?” Leonard glared at him.

“Jesus Christ, the fact that I have to spell this out,” Jim said as he threw up his hands. “Kidnapping 101: has it occurred to you at all to ask for a ransom yet?”

All of Leonard’s frustration left him as his cheeks flooded with embarrassed heat. “I…”

“That’s what I thought,” Jim said as he stormed into the kitchen, shoving the food back into the refrigerator. “Pay phone?”

“There’s one a couple of miles up the road,” Leonard said as he blinked.

“Right,” Jim said as he grabbed his jacket. “I’ll drive.”

Leonard followed him before regaining his footing. “Don’t try anything. If you so much as step more than two feet away from me…”

“Got it,” Jim said with a roll of his eyes. 

They drove in silence, and Jim haphazardly parked the car next to the phone. Leonard grabbed him and pulled him into the booth, shoving him into the back of it. 

“Jesus.”

“Shut up,” Leonard said. He fished a few quarters out of his pocket. “Don’t you say a fucking word until I tell you.” 

Jim pursed his lips and put his hands in his pockets.

Leonard dialed the number, waiting for an answer. It was picked up on the third ring. “Mister Kirk? It’s me.” There was a pause. “Me! The kidnapper!” There was another pause as he took in George Kirk’s words. “Hey, wait a God damn minute! It’s not like that at all! Listen to me…” He paused again.

Jim reached out, hit the bar, and the call disconnected. Leonard’s quarters fell out of the machine into the change holder.

“What are you doing?” Leonard asked.

“No, what are _you_ doing?” Jim stared at him.

“I’m negotiating with your father,” Leonard replied, slowly as if Jim was a stupid child.

Jim blinked exactly once. “Look at just how amazingly far you got.”

“Well, he kept interrupting me.”

“I am both shocked and appalled,” Jim said and again, Leonard fought the urge to beat him senseless. “Remember what they didn’t teach you at Harvard Business School?”

Leonard’s jaw set so hard it creaked. “I didn’t go to Harvard, business school or otherwise.”

“Oh my God, really? It’s a figure of speech, Bones,” Jim said, his tone exasperated. 

“Oh,” Leonard said. He looked down at the floor, feeling foolish. “Sorry, Jim.”

“Whatever,” Jim said. “My point is thus; negotiation is a weakness. You’re the kidnapper. You demand, and he complies. That’s just how it works. Hit him hard, and hit him fast.” 

Leonard raised his eyes to Jim’s, for a second taken in by how blue they were. “Hard and fast,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Jim grabbed the phone receiver. “I’m you, okay? Now while it’s ringing, you stand here and psych yourself up. Then he picks up and…” Jim held the receiver up to his face. “All right you piece of shit come-licker, I’ve got your fucking shitbag of a son, and I swear to God I’ll send him back to you in tiny pieces if you don’t give me what I fucking want right now! I’m gonna rip out his fingers and toes with pliers and feed them to my God damn dogs!” 

Leonard blinked. 

Like a switch had been thrown, Jim shrugged. “Just…go to your dark side. Everyone has one.” He replaced the phone on the hook. “Oh, and don’t go on for longer than thirty seconds. He’ll likely be trying to trace the call.”

Leonard grabbed his quarters and took a deep breath. He placed them in the payphone, lifting the receiver and dialing the number to Jim’s father. The phone rang twice this time before he picked up. “Hello? Mister Kirk?”

Jim reached out and hung up the phone again. He gave Leonard a bewildered look. “What did I just say?”

“Hard and fast,” Leonard said with a sigh. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve never done this before.”

“Again, I am shocked and appalled,” Jim said. “Try it again.”

For the third time, Leonard inserted the change and dialed the number. Again, George Kirk answered. “Right, son, I’ve got your fucking asshole here…”

Jim hung up the call.

Leonard was about to ask what he did when he realized what he said. He buried his face in one hand. “Fuck, this is hard.”

“Try it again,” Jim said as he handed him the change.

Leonard did everything a fourth time. “All right you fucker, I got your son here, and I swear to God I’ll post him home to you in tiny boxes if you don’t…” His eyes widened. “Oh, no ma’am. No, I’m sorry; I dialed the wrong number. I don’t have _your_ son.” There was a pause. “Well, I’m sure he’s every bit as wonderful as you say.” Another pause. “Well, actually, I’m recently single so I have no objections to meeting him in theory but…”

Jim grabbed the phone from him and slammed it down. “Never mind,”  
Jim said as he pushed past Leonard out to the car. 

Leonard stared at him, unsure of what he witnessed. “Wait what are you…?”

Jim opened the driver’s door. “You’re sending a letter. Get in.”

\-----

Standing outside of George Kirk’s office, Mister Spock and Ms. Uhura stared at each other.

“Do you think they’re in love yet?” Uhura asked. 

“No,” Spock answered.

“If they are, we can go home,” Uhura continued. “I hate it down here. I hate the people. I hate the plumbing. I even hate the food.”

Spock didn’t say anything, as he had heard it all before.

“I ache all over,” Uhura said as she rubbed the back of her neck with one gloved hand. “I’m sweating. It’s awful. I just want to go home. We’re not even staying in a decent place.”

“The budget does not allow for anything better,” Spock replied.

“Exactly,” Uhura said. “And why not?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am certain you are already aware of those _mysterious ways_ everyone discusses. This, unfortunately, is one of them.”

Uhura looked up at him with longing in her eyes. “Do you remember the good old days? All you had to do was introduce two people together and nature took its course…” She sighed. “Now everything is so complicated. You miss one seemingly minor detail, and everything just falls to shit.”

“It does,” Spock agreed.

Ms. Colt, Kirk’s secretary, smiled at the pair. “Mister Kirk will see you now,” she said with a gesture to the door. 

Both of them nodded and went inside the office. The man himself sat at his desk, his left leg propped up in a chair. He held a cane in his hands, and a bald man in a suit stood behind him. Spock and Uhura took the two waiting chairs across from Kirk.

“I have a business proposition for you,” Kirk said as he toyed with his cane. “I was referred to your agency. I need someone…retrieved.”

“We are capable of performing such a task,” Spock answered. “Evictions and collections pay our operations expenses, but our true work is in bounty hunting.”

“Good,” Kirk said. “How much?”

“Our fee for the retrieval of your son is one hundred thousand,” Uhura said with a smile. “Five thousand advance. No son, no money.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of money.”

“It is, of course, offered on a sliding scale,” Spock added. “If we only successfully retrieve a portion of your son, then you pay only a portion of the money.” Uhura stared at him, willing him to go silent. “For example, should the kidnapper have removed Jim’s ears, and we cannot locate them…”

“Spock.” Uhura sighed; Kirk’s expression was horrified. “He gets the idea.”

“Of course,” Spock said.

“That’s just a worst case scenario,” Uhura said with a smile to Kirk. “You understand. It’s just business talk.”

“I do understand,” Kirk said. “What about Jim’s abductor?”

“You want him as well?” Spock said, sitting straighter in the chair. “Mister Kirk, that will cost extra…”

“What if he gets in the way?” Before either of them could reply, Kirk slammed the cane down on the desk, startling them. “What if I _want_ him to get in the way?”

Uhura blinked. Surely he couldn’t mean…

“Let us speak plainly,” Spock said. “You wish for us to kill him. Am I following you?”

Kirk nodded.

Uhura jerked her head to the side, getting up from her chair. “I need to speak to my partner, if you don’t mind…” she said as she grabbed Spock and dragged him to the back of the office. As soon as they were out of earshot, Uhura clutched Spock’s arm. “Spock! We can’t…we are not going to kill…”

“I will remind you only once that if we do not get this job, he will give it to someone else,” Spock whispered. “Someone who is not at all invested in Leonard McCoy’s continued survival.”

Uhura didn’t say anything, opting instead to fold her hands together, close her eyes, and pray. Spock joined her, and when they finished, they turned their attention back to Kirk.

Uhura swallowed, placing a hand on one hip. “A quarter of a million.”

“Including expenses?” Kirk sat straighter in his chair.

“Including all expenses incurred during the duration, except for medical,” Spock said. “Those you will assume full responsibility for.”

“Only for during the contract,” Kirk said.

“Of course,” Spock said with a nod.

Kirk smiled, a grim, humorless one. “You have a deal.”

\-----

Leonard looked at his work as he assembled it. So far, the ransom note was coming out pretty well if he said so himself.

“Hey, how come the newspaper’s all cut up?” Jim called from the cabin’s loft. He lay on his stomach on the bed with his legs kicked up in the air like a little kid.

Outside of the cabin, the floorboards of the front porch creaked. Leonard and Jim both looked up, Leonard grabbing the gun and putting it in the back of his waistband. A knock sounded on the front door, and Leonard crossed over to it.

“Stay hidden,” he said to Jim. “Just stay up there, and for God’s sake, don’t speak.”

Without looking at him, Leonard knew Jim rolled his eyes. 

A louder, more insistent knock filled the air, and Leonard opened the door. On the other side stood a tall blonde woman in a battered overcoat and with a shotgun strapped to her back.

“Good afternoon,” she said. 

“Uh, hey,” Leonard said, keeping the door mostly closed. He inserted his body into the crack.

“My name is Christine Chapel,” the woman continued. “I live up the hill.”

“That’s nice,” Leonard said with a smile.

“I see most things that happen in this area from up there,” Chapel said. “I saw you arrive. Big car in the middle of the night.”

Leonard’s expression didn’t change but his stomach dropped down into his knees. “Right.”

“It made me wonder, ‘who’s that?’” 

“That question is perfectly natural,” Leonard said.

“So I asked Janice.”

“Janice?”

“Janice is my friend. She hasn’t been the same since the war, though,” Chapel said.

“Of course.” Leonard fervently hoped that this conversation would make sense soon.

“I said, Janice, I said, tell me, are they good or are they evil,” she continued. “One bark is good, two for evil.”

Leonard grinned. “Oh Janice is your dog.”

That was the wrong thing to say, because Chapel’s expression became stony. “No, Janice isn’t a dog. You think I would talk to a dog? Do you think I would ask a dog if you’re good or evil?”

The grin fled Leonard’s face. 

“What do you think I am?” Chapel was visibly upset now; her eyes were wide, and she had a pronounced frown on her face. “You think I’m some kind of crazy backwoods lunatic with…with a barn full of human skills and a scythe I sharpen in readiness for the End of Days?”

Holy shit.

“Oh, oh no,” Leonard said as he shook his head. “No, I don’t think that at all. I think you’re just a regular person.”

“That’s right! I’m regular! _I am a regular person_!” Chapel said. “That isn’t the point. The point is… _who are you_?”

Before Leonard could answer, the door opened wider. 

Jim stood next to him in nothing but a sheet draped around his waist. He smiled, and it was so charming, it disarmed Leonard. “We just got married,” Jim said in a quiet voice. He turned to Leonard, and the come-hither look on his face made Leonard’s brain short-circuit. “Are you coming back to bed, baby?”

Leonard swallowed, his eyes not leaving Jim’s. “This is Ms. Chapel, darlin’.”

Jim turned to Chapel with another one of those mega-watt smiles. “Hello.” He extended a hand to shake it.

Chapel’s eyes were comically wide as she stared at Jim’s almost nude body. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“You can call me Louis,” Jim said. “Say, you’re not from the newspapers, are you?”

“No, I live just up the hill,” Chapel said.

“Oh, good,” Jim said with a giggle. “But still, you can’t tell them we’re here. They’ll never leave us alone, okay? Because of Richie.” Jim gestured at Leonard with one shoulder, and Leonard wondered where Jim was going with this.

“Richie?” Chapel’s eyebrows knit together.

“Oh you have to recognize Richie,” Jim said. “Richie Vanderlow? Six gold albums, three platinum? Fourteen consecutive top ten singles? Largest selling recording artist worldwide for the last twelve months?”

Leonard straightened himself up, leaning against the doorframe. He hoped he looked as cool as Jim made him sound.

“I…watch mostly the Biblical channels,” Chapel said with an apologetic look at Leonard. Leonard shrugged.

“It’s okay,” Jim said with another giggle. “We got married in secret in a castle in Scotland.” Chapel gave him a blank look. “As in England.” Another blank look. “Near Paris?”

“Oh, Paree,” Chapel said with a smile.

“Right,” Jim said. “We stayed there for our honeymoon, but it wasn’t long enough so…we came here for some privacy.” On his last words, Jim turned to Leonard again, biting his bottom lip and giving him another come-hither look. Leonard felt his entire body go hot from the attention.

“Oh, I see,” Chapel said. 

Jim opened the door all the way. “Would you like to come in, Ms. Chapel?”

Chapel looked at the two of them, and Leonard and Jim both favored her with polite smiles. “…No,” she answered. “I have to be on my way. It’s time to feed Janice.”

“Oh, well,” Jim said. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you.” He turned to Leonard with bedroom eyes and cocked his head to one side, signaling that he should be followed. Jim walked through the cabin, climbing up the wooden steps to the loft. 

Leonard watched him go with his jaw open a little. “Uh…I’ll catch you later, Ms. Chapel.”

“Take care, Richie,” she said as her eyes followed Jim until Leonard closed the door. 

Leonard heard the sounds of Jim getting dressed, and he wiped a hand down his face. He shook his head to clear it, and then went back to the table to finish the note.

Jim came back down the stairs, buttoning his fly. “Let me see it.”

Leonard handed it to him.

Jim sighed. “ _Anonymous_? Really?” He dropped the note on the table. “Bones. My father knows who you are.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Leonard said. “That never even occurred to me.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “You are the worst kidnapper I have ever met!”

That was the breaking point. “Oh, and that’s all I am to you,” Leonard said. “Just the latest kidnapper, like a God damn fashion accessory. And if it doesn’t match or whatever, who cares? You have others lining up!” He walked away in disgust. 

“Stop being so melodramatic,” Jim said. 

“Well I’m doing my best, okay?” Leonard sat on an ottoman. “I’m doing everything I can under really difficult circumstances, and I have you on my back criticizing every step that I make. It’s hard, okay?”

Jim sighed and looked at the note again. “How much are you asking for?”

“Half of a million,” Leonard said from behind his hands.

This put an offended look on Jim’s face. “ _Dollars_?”

“Yes.” Leonard looked at him.

“Dollars, as in, American dollars,” Jim continued.

“Jesus, what? What is wrong with that? What have I fucked up now?” Leonard said as he glared up at Jim.

“What you’ve fucked up is that half of a million is _nothing_ for a man like me,” Jim spat. “Jesus. If it gets out that I got ransomed for a half of a million dollars, I’ll never be able to show my face in polite society again.”

“It’s not a reflection on you as a person,” Leonard said.

“Diamonds have no value except that which is placed upon them,” Jim said. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just…like I said, I’m trying, and this is really complicated,” Leonard said with a sigh.

This calmed Jim. He took a couple of steps towards Leonard. Then he took a deep breath before saying, “Look, Bones. I get it. You are trying, and you’re also eager to learn. Those are both good things.” He turned and walked away. “Let’s just not lose sight of the big picture. You and I stand to make millions off this.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “ _You and I_?”

“I didn’t stutter, Bones,” Jim said as he turned to face him. “You and I. Us. We.”

Leonard blinked at him. “Now I realize that this is my first kidnapping,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not normal.”

Jim shrugged. “You’re right. It’s not.” He held up the ransom note again. “Ten million at a fifty-fifty split sound good to you?”

His eyes went wide. Five million dollars? That would give him a lot of time to write his novel, along with letting him do anything else he ever wanted. Could he really get ten million in total ransom for Jim?

“Yeah,” Leonard said. “It sounds pretty good.”

Jim smiled. “Pay phone?”

“Pay phone,” Leonard agreed, and they left the cabin, again driving the two miles to the phone. 

Jim stepped alone into it this time, filling it with quarters and calling his father. Leonard watched his face; his father must have picked up, because suddenly Jim sobbed. 

“Daddy? Daddy, he’s gonna kill me! He said he’s going to skin me alive and make me watch if you don’t do what he wants! He said he’s going to rape me until I go comatose and then drain my blood! Daddy, give him what he wants! Ten million dollars in unmarked bills in the trunk of the car parked by milepost 27! Daddy please! Please Daddy, please don’t let me…” 

He muffled his speech with his own hand and screamed behind it before hanging up the phone. The calm overtook him again, and he turned to Leonard with a pointed look. 

“Done.”

“I can’t believe you’re…how old are you, anyways?” Leonard asked as Jim drove them back. 

“Twenty-five,” Jim said. Much to Leonard’s joy, Jim’s driving had improved.

“You’re twenty-five, and you call your father _daddy_ ,” Leonard said. 

“Shut up,” Jim said without taking his eyes off the road. “What else am I supposed to call him? What do you call yours, Father?”

“I don’t call him anything, he died three years ago,” Leonard said with a shrug.

Jim winced. “Sorry, Bones, I didn’t know.” 

“It’s fine,” Leonard said.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. “Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” Leonard admitted, not sure why he felt compelled to do so. “He’d beat me to death if he saw what I did to you.”

This caused Jim to frown. “That’s the difference, I guess. Good old George is going to care way more about losing ten mil than he is about getting me back.” He thought for a second. “Once I get my money, I swear I’ll never see him alive again.”

“I can’t say I feel sorry for him, considering the whole firing me and replacing me with a robot thing,” Leonard admitted.

“It’s not personal,” Jim said. “Money’s all he cares about. Like… _all_ he cares about. If he can save your salary by employing a robot that works for free, well, he’s going to.”

“It’s personal to me,” Leonard said. 

“Fair enough,” Jim replied. “I mean, I’ve never done that before, so I don’t really know how it goes.”

Leonard turned to make sure they weren’t being followed; the road was clear as far as he could see. “Fired someone?”

“Had a job,” Jim clarified. “I fired my au pair when I was thirteen, actually. She had it coming, though. She tried to…well, it’s a good thing I’m gay, is all I’ll say about that.”

It was Leonard’s turn to wince. “Yikes.”

Having arrived at their destination, the pair got out of the car and headed into their cabin. Leonard picked up _Perfect Love_ , glancing over its synopsis. It actually didn’t seem all that horrible, and who knew? Maybe it would help him with his own novel.

“I wish the TV got more than PBS,” Jim said as he hung his coat up by the door. 

“That shit will rot your brain,” Leonard argued as he sat down in the old green armchair with the book. “Tell me when it gets to be about five thirty, and I’ll make dinner. Chicken this time.”

“Sounds good,” Jim said. “I’ll be up in the loft.” 

Leonard, who was already absorbed in the book, just waved an assent. God it was trashy…but _amazing_.

\-----

From their vantage point, Spock and Uhura could see a huge stretch of the old farm road. True to the description on the phone call, there was an Eldorado parked, sitting at milepost 27.

Uhura lay flat on her stomach with binoculars as they waited. Spock lay in a similar position next to her, but held a book in his hands and had headphones around his neck.

Six inches in front of him was a sniper rifle on a tripod.

“He’s going to show, right?” Uhura said. “I mean, he has to; he thinks we’re giving him the money.”

Spock didn’t answer, absorbed in the book.

“Spock,” Uhura said with a note of impatience in her voice. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. He blinked and looked at her.

“My apologies,” he said as he set the book down on its open pages. 

Uhura looked at the cover; it was red, and it proclaimed the title, _Perfect Love_ , in a scrawl. She chose not to comment. 

“What was your question?” Spock prompted as he looked through the sight on the gun. He closed his left eye to focus on the target.

“I was asking you to reassure me that McCoy will show,” she said. 

“He will show,” Spock said with an edge to his voice. “Look.”

A black town car pulled up, parking about three hundred feet from the red Eldorado. The driver was alone. Uhura adjusted the sights on her binoculars. “It’s him,” she confirmed. 

Spock pulled on the earphones and took position behind the rifle. “Good.”

They watched McCoy sit in the car for a while as he checked his surroundings. Once he was satisfied he got out of the car, holding a revolver in one hand. He walked, looking over his shoulder, towards the El Dorado. 

“It is fake, right?” Uhura asked. “The bomb?”

“He won’t notice until it is too late,” Spock said. He followed McCoy with the sight of the gun, his open eye never leaving his face.

McCoy turned the key in the trunk and opened it. Sure enough, he saw Spock’s “bomb,” because his entire face turned white. He stared down at it with a dumbstruck expression, and Uhura counted down the seconds until it would go off.

When it did, nothing happened.

It took McCoy a minute to realize he hadn’t died, and once he had, he poked around the trunk, pulling apart the “bomb.” In his hand was a paper bag of carrots with green tops. He snorted, closing the trunk, and took a look around.

This is when Spock opened fire.

McCoy dove into a ditch behind the car as Spock riddled it with bullets. He even caught the gas tank, fuel spilling out of it onto the ground. McCoy commando crawled through the ditch back to the town car. 

Uhura, who had covered her ears, shouted to Spock. “Nice shooting!”

Spock finished firing the gun. “Thank you.”

Finished crawling, McCoy opened the door and slid, still ducked into the driver’s seat of the car. The car’s ignition started, and he peeled the car out down the road in the opposite direction he came.

“Let’s move,” Uhura said as she and Spock got into their own car, which was parked on the grass and hidden by the glade. Spock started the car, and he took off after McCoy at a high speed. McCoy’s car went around a bend, and Spock followed, flooring it.

They continued their chase for a while, with the black town car going ahead of them around bends. Finally, they passed a bend and saw the car idling.

On the car’s hood lay a blond hiker. He sat up at the sight of them and grinned. “Just like you said…I stepped in front of him, and he handed me the keys. ‘Here, take my car’,” he crowed. “How did you know he’d do that?”

“It is our job to know such things,” Spock said as he took out his wallet. “Here. Eighty-five dollars.” The hiker took the money with a grin.

“Thank you, Mister Finnegan,” Uhura added. “Your help is much appreciated.”

Finnegan saluted at them before sliding back into the car. He took off for parts unknown, and Uhura turned to Spock.

“Do you really think that worked?” she asked.

“We will know shortly,” Spock answered.

\-----

Jim looked down at Bones, who sat at their kitchen table. His head was buried in the crook of one arm. “Look, they weren’t really trying to kill you. They were trying to confuse and scare you.”

Bones’ words were muffled. “Yeah, right before they killed me.” He lifted his head and sighed. “And I lost the car. _And_ I didn’t get the money.”

Jim wanted to put his arm around his shoulders or touch him or something. Instead he stood by the sink. “You can’t beat yourself up over this. Not one gets everything right the first time. Look,” he said, taking a step towards him. “You are going to be fine. Hell, you are going to be a _success_.”

Bones looked at him then, and yeah, Jim wanted to touch him. 

“Do you really think so?” Bones asked.

“Well I mean…you didn’t get caught,” Jim said, turning away from him. He grabbed a carrot from the counter and took a bite.

“No, you’re right,” Bones said. “I didn’t get caught. I fooled them.” He looked at Jim again with a smile. “Maybe we should go out.”

Jim munched on the carrot. “Out where?”

“Out like…for a drink,” Bones said. “To celebrate.”

Jim looked at him with a confused expression. “What? Like out on a date?”

Bones smiled, and Jim was struck by how much younger he seemed when he did. “Well, that’s not what I meant, but it is the same principle. So I guess, yeah sort of like us going out on a date.”

Jim finished the carrot. “Okay.”

“You’re all right with that?” Bones tilted his head to one side as he gave Jim an interested stare.

Jim cleared his throat. “Well, I’m all right with getting out of here. The one channel and trashy romance novels are bringing me down.”

Bones nodded. “No, we’ve been cooped up. That makes perfect sense.” He got up from the chair. “I took a look at the town yesterday; there’s a saloon near the store I got our food from. We can go there.”

“Okay,” Jim said with a shrug. He grabbed his jacket, and Bones grabbed a coat that had been left in the cabin. They didn’t bother to lock the door as they walked into town.

They didn’t talk as they made their way to the bar, but it didn’t bother Jim. It was…comfortable, which Jim realized he never had that before. Silences with Gary had always been awkward, and now the fact that he didn’t have to speak with Bones...well, it was something else.

The saloon was packed once they reached it, and Jim saw why; it was karaoke night. Ms. Chapel was the host from the looks of things, and as they got shown to a booth in the back Jim couldn’t help but wince at the slaughtering “Achy Breaky Heart” received.

A server came up to them in a worn flannel shirt and jeans. He held a pad and pencil and smiled. “What’ll it be, gents? Special’s on Coors and Long Islands.”

Bones looked at Jim. “What’s your preference?”

“I’ve never had beer,” Jim admitted, feeling like he failed some kind of test.

“Two Coors,” Bones said. The server smiled and left them. “It’s not the best beer, but it’s not the worst,” Bones explained. 

“It’s fine,” Jim said with a smile. The server returned with two mugs filled with beer, and Jim took a sip. It was foamy and cold. Most importantly, it didn’t taste like piss like he always assumed. He took a longer drink the second time.

A different singer came up to the stage, but Jim didn’t pay her any mind. What captured his interest sat facing him taking a long pull of beer.

“So…you said you’re recently single,” Jim said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the singing.

“Yup,” Bones said. 

“Tell me about it,” Jim said.

“Not much to tell, really,” Bones said. 

Jim took another long drink; the beer had grown on him. “Bad relationship, then.”

“What?” Bones set his mug on the table. “No, I wouldn’t say that at all. It wasn’t a bad relationship. It’s just…Jocelyn and I, we grew apart you know? As people, I mean.”

“Oh, she left you,” Jim said, his eyes softening.

“What? No she…” Bones sighed and leaned back in his chair. The set of his mouth was resigned. “Yeah. She left me.”

“Mmmm,” Jim said, his voice filled with sympathy. “The aerobics instructor.”

Bones stared at Jim for a solid minute. “How the hell could you possibly have known that?”

Jim shrugged. “You have the demeanor of a man whose partner has left him for an aerobics instructor.”

“…Good to know, I suppose,” Bones said. He took another drink; their glasses were getting empty. He signaled their server. 

“But be honest, it was kind of doomed from the start, wasn’t it?” Jim continued. “I mean, you two weren’t really suited to each other. You dream of something better, but she wants better now. Hence the gymnast.”

As Jim kept talking, Bones leaned across the table. He rested his chin on one hand, captivated by every word.

“Well? Am I right?” Jim said as the server arrived. “Hello again. Six shot glasses each and a bottle of the best tequila you have.”

The server grinned. “You got it.”

“Oh I can’t…that’s going to be…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jim said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I happen to have in my possession three credit cards with limits, and two without. I doubt George is tracking their use.” Jim killed his beer. “Anyways, back to you and…what was her name again?”

“Jocelyn.”

“Jocelyn, right,” Jim said. “It’s a pretty common scenario, Bones.”

Bones stared at Jim for a long time as the tequila and glasses were brought to them.

“Finish your beer so we can move on,” Jim said. Bones obliged, and Jim watched the play of muscles in his throat as he swallowed. Jim then looked at the wall. “So you…you’re into women then.”

“I don’t…” Bones ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “I’m into both. It’s all about the person with me, and whatever gender they are is secondary.”

“How enlightened,” Jim said. He grabbed the shot glasses, turning them right side up, six in front of Bones, six in front of himself.

“So can I tell you something else?” Bones again leaned towards him. “It’s about this dream I keep having.”

Jim snorted. “What, like you want me to decipher it? Want me to read your tarot cards next?” 

“No, I think…I think that you’re in it,” Bones said.

Jim froze. “I’m in your dreams?”

Bones nodded.

Frowning, Jim shook his head. “Now I feel violated.” 

“Oh, no,” Bones said. “I already told you, no sexual stuff. It’s not like that at all. It’s more like...”

Feeling stung by the comment about them not having sex, Jim cleared his throat and looked at the label of the alcohol. Jose Cuervo…it would do. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you want to hear about then?” Bones watched as Jim filled all of the shot glasses with the tequila. “Hey, want to hear about my novel?”

“I already told you, I’m not interested,” Jim said as he set the bottle back on the table.

“It’s 1963, and Marilyn Monroe is in labor,” Bones said, and Jim scowled at being ignored. “She’s on the phone to Jack Kennedy screaming ‘Jack it’s yours, she’s your daughter’…”

Jim sighed. “So then the orphan grows up and she solves some mystery, probably involving some kind of insanely huge treasure, right?”

Bones’ jaw dropped. He blinked exactly four times.

“It’s kind of obvious, Bones,” Jim said with a shrug. He pointed to the now full glasses. “Let’s play a game.”

The shock faded off Bones’ face into a more curious expression. “What kind of game?”

Jim smiled. “If I win, I go free. Right here, right now, no looking back.”

Bones’ face shifted into shame. “You are free. Kidnap’s over. I’m no more a kidnapper than I am Richie Vanderlow.”

Jim slammed one hand down on the table, making Bones jump. “Indulge me, Bones.”

Something flickered across Bones’ face and lit up his eyes; before Jim could ask, he switched back to being sad. “If that’s what you want.”

Jim felt his own eyes soften. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, startled by how naked he sounded to his own ears.

Again, that same thing flashed in Bones’ countenance. He picked up a shot glass with his left hand. “Game on.” He held it up, and Jim raised his own. 

Without a word, they took the first shot. Bones pulled a face at the flavor of the tequila, while Jim kept his eyes locked on Bones the entire time. One shot became two, which merged into three, and on the fourth one, Jim managed to get a sizeable lead. Before he knew it, all six of his glasses sat upside down.

Bones finished his last shot, grimacing and coughing. Jim tried to catch his breath.

“You win,” Bones choked. “You’re free.”

“Damn straight.” Jim folded his arms across his chest.

They sat and stared at each other while the singer finished.

“Aren’t you gonna go?”

Startled, Jim looked at Bones. He could go. He could walk out and never look back. “We…we haven’t gotten our money yet,” he said instead, not sure why he felt compelled to make the excuse.

Bones nodded. “Fair enough.”

The crowd burst into applause, and Jim and Bones turned to the stage. 

“Big hand for Kevin Riley,” Ms. Chapel said as she urged the audience to cheer. She looked around the room, brightening when she saw Jim and Bones.

Oh wait.

“We’re privileged tonight, y’all,” Ms. Chapel said into her mic. “We have with us a special guest. He’s a close, personal friend of mine, and I’m gonna ask him up here to sing us all a song.” She grinned. “He’s the best selling artist in the world, with twelve gold albums, sixteen platinum albums, and thirty-two number one singles!”

A spotlight drifted over to their table, landing on Bones’ face. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the one, the only, Richie Vanderclaw!”

Jim burst out laughing. He bounced up and down in the booth, pointing at Bones. 

“I have no idea who that is,” a woman said in the booth behind him as she applauded.

“Mother-fucker,” Bones said under his breath as he stood and waved to the crowd. He made his way up to the stage, standing in front of the prompter with a microphone in his hand. The audience continued to go wild. “Thanks. Thanks. You’re…you’re great. Thanks.”

The cheering died down enough for him to really speak. Jim clapped his hands together, grinning with delight.

“My name is Leo…Richie Vanderlow,” Bones said. “And…and I’d like to sing this song to my gorgeous husband.”

Jim’s face flooded with heat as the crowd applauded again. Bones thought he was gorgeous?

“This is for you, Louis,” Bones looked down at the screen. “And it happens to be a very special song for us.”

A jazzy little riff filled the air, and Jim recognized the song immediately. He smiled but bit his lip at the same time as Bones sang.

“Somewhere,” Bones crooned. “Beyond the sea! Somewhere, waiting for me…my lover stands on golden sands, and watches the ships, that go sailing…”

Jim stood from the booth, walking up to the stage. Yeah, Bones’ voice wasn’t perfect, but something about it…he couldn’t help himself.

“Somewhere, beyond the sea; he’s there, watching for me. If I could fly like birds on high, then straight to his arms I’d go sailing…” Bones continued to sing the song, his eyes finding Jim’s as they moved closer together. 

Jim stepped onto the stage, grabbing a second microphone and posing next to Bones. He took over the singing. “It’s far, beyond the star! It’s near, beyond the moon!” He twirled, and Bones took him by the hand, holding him close. “I know, beyond a doubt; my heart will lead me there soon.”

Bones reached out a hand, and Jim took it. They sang together. “I know, beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon! We’ll meet…I know we’ll meet, beyond the shore…we’ll kiss, just as before! Happy we’ll be, beyond the sea, and never again, I’ll go sailing…”

An instrumental section filled the air as Bones spun Jim into his arms. Jim looked into those green eyes and felt his heart thud in his chest.

“I know,” they sang together, “beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon! We’ll meet…I know we’ll meet, beyond the shore…we’ll kiss, just as before! Happy we’ll be, beyond the sea, and never again, I’ll go sailing…”

“It touches my heart to see two young people in love,” Ms. Chapel said to her blonde companion.

“Woof,” the woman said. Chapel nodded her agreement.

Bones spun Jim, and they were nose to nose as the song ended. The smile ran away from Jim’s face as he realized how close they were. “Bones…”

“Jim,” Bones said, his gaze lowering to look at Jim’s lips. 

“Let’s pay and go home,” Jim said without breaking the spell.

Bones snapped his eyes back up to meet Jim’s. “I already told you, there’s…”

“It’s not a motive,” Jim said. “But we still want it.”

Swallowing, Bones nodded. “I’ll get our coats.”

“I’ll pay the tab,” Jim agreed as they parted. Jim found their server and handed the black Amex to him. The card was run, and Jim signed the receipt. Bones came over and draped his jacket around his shoulders. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” Jim said as they walked out. The walk back to their cabin went okay, if quiet. Their hands brushed together sometimes, and Jim couldn’t help but think every touch between them was electric.

They entered the cabin, and Bones turned on the lights. He helped Jim out of his jacket, and Jim turned to face him. “We don’t have to,” Bones said. “I mean…we’re business partners now. Things could get messy.”

Jim bit his bottom lip, looking up at Bones from underneath his eyelashes. “We’re adults, Bones. We can handle this.” He reached out, and Bones fell into his arms. “We…we both know it’s just tonight.”

Bones pulled back far enough to look at him, and again, there was something there in his eyes… Jim swallowed, wanting to ask what it was but afraid to. He instead leaned in and kissed Bones. Bones sighed into it, reaching a hand up into Jim’s hair. They kissed a second time, and it was like something snapped between them. Jim melted into it, holding Bones as tight to him as possible. 

Bones broke the kiss and panted. “Should we…I mean…the bed?”

“Hell yes,” Jim said, taking him by the hand and pulling him up the stairs to the loft. They reached their destination, and Jim flopped onto the mattress, kicking off his shoes as he did so. 

Bones sat down next to his legs, his eyes never leaving Jim’s face. For some reason Jim felt shy, and he blushed at the attention. Bones crawled towards him, closing the distance and kissing him again. The kissing turned to making out, and Jim’s hands slid up underneath the horror that was Bones’ shirt. 

Bones broke the kiss, his breathing heavy. “I don’t…is there even any lube here?”

Jim hummed. “I think there’s lotion in the nightstand, and that’ll do.”

Bones nodded, reaching out a hand to fish in the top drawer. Sure enough, there was a nearly full bottle of Purell. Jim took the opportunity to pull off his shirt, tossing it across the floor. He reached out and unbuttoned Bones’ shirt, sliding it down his arms and throwing it far away as well. 

Bones was in pretty great shape for a former janitor, and Jim ran his hands appreciatively down his pectorals to his abs. “You must work out,” Jim said as he bent down to lick his collarbone.

Bones hitched in a breath and sighed. “Yeah. You sleep later than me, otherwise you would have noticed all the push ups I do first thing in the morning.”

“Mmm...” Jim said, continuing to taste the salty-sweetness of his flesh. “Incentive to get up. I like that.” 

Taking his hands to push on Jim’s shoulders, Bones arranged them so they lay together on the bed. He bent down to kiss Jim again. Bones guided his hands down Jim’s body in a slow, teasing manner, stopping them at the waistband of his pants. He undid the fly one tooth at a time, and Jim sighed in relief as the pressure came off his erection.

“There aren’t any condoms,” Bones said in between hard kisses. 

“I’m clean,” Jim said with a groan. “I get tested every six months.”

“Yeah, but I was just cheated on, so I can’t say the same with any certainty,” Bones said. “I’d rather not risk it.”

Jim hmmed a little into the next kiss. “Fair enough.” Bones bent his head down, pressing hot little kisses to his throat. “Thanks. I’m not used to…being looked out for like that.”

Bones’ hand held Jim’s erection through his briefs, and he mewled at the contact. Bones’ hand ghosted up and down the shaft, and Jim arced his hips to get more friction. “There’s other things we can do,” Bones said as he peeled the briefs down.

“Yeah,” Jim said, lifting his hips so his clothing could be pushed down to his knees. He reached up and returned the favor, opening Bones’ jeans and pushing down his boxers, which were just as tacky as the shirt. Jim would have asked about them, but Bones thumbed the head of his cock so it was easier to moan instead. 

Bones grabbed the lotion and poured a generous amount into his hands. He then grabbed both of their cocks, lining them up together. He stroked them both, and Jim fisted one of his hands in Bones’ hair.

Bones stroked them again, long and slow, and Jim closed his eyes, breathing him in. Bones smelled of sandalwood and a bit of musk, and Jim stuttered out a gasp as he palmed both their heads. 

“Oh, _fuck_ , Bones,” Jim said. 

Before he could continue, Bones kissed the breath out of him. They lingered together like that as the movement of Bones’ hand sped. Jim clutched him close for dear life as they moved together, moaning on every pass of Bones’ hand. Bones’ bangs got plastered to his forehead with sweat, and they rocked together on the bed.

“I’m close,” Jim broke a kiss to pant.

Bones groaned a little and nodded. “So’m I.”

His hand stroked them in a furious manner, and without any warning, Jim’s orgasm ripped through his body. His come splashed both their stomachs, and he cried out, trembling from the aftershocks. Bones followed a second later with a shout; his come poured over his fist and their cocks. 

Jim blinked for a second in the dim light of the cabin. Bones rolled off him, kicking off his pants and boxers as he did so. Jim wrapped his arms around himself, feeling strangely cold. He shifted so he lay on his side with his back to Bones.

Bones took a moment to wipe his hand off on the sheets before spooning up behind him. He then pressed gentle kisses to the back of Jim’s neck and shoulders.

Jim let go of himself to wrap his hands around Bones’ arms. He leaned back into him, biting his bottom lip. The movement of the lips on his back slowed before stopping all together.

“Bones?” Jim asked. His grip on Bones’ hand tightened. “This…this wasn’t you getting revenge on your ex, right? This was something else, wasn’t it?”

There was a long silence before Jim realized Bones had fallen asleep. His heart constricted in his chest, stopping for a second at the realization. Biting back a sigh, Jim closed his eyes and counted to twenty-five.

Sleep did not come easily for him.

\-----

_He spread his arms on the back of the wheel as the woman in the evening gown strapped him to it. Before he could question things, a blindfold got tied over his eyes, obscuring his vision and half of his face._

_The wheel was spun, and Leonard went with it, upside down, right side up, sideways, and everything in between. The audience screamed and cheered as he went around and around. God only knew when it would stop, but it had to at some point._

_His heart beat incredibly fast; too fast, actually. It felt like he had an attack. He couldn’t breathe or think, he just knew his body needed to calm itself before he died._

_The spinning continued, and he went on and on. He vaguely heard someone speak._

_It was Jim._

_“…with an arrow of my love for him,” were the only words Leonard made out. There was the sound of a gun being cocked before it fired, and before Leonard even had time to scream, the bullet pierced his chest, hitting him straight in the heart._

_It didn’t kill him, though. It simply stopped his heart long enough for the beating to come back under control._

_The audience went wild, and the spinning stopped. Leonard was helped down from the wheel, and the blindfold got removed. Jim stood before him in a black suit with an iridescent electric blue shirt, and the smile on his face was the sweetest thing Leonard had ever seen._

_“You saved me,” Leonard gasped._

_“I always will,” said Jim._

_They embraced, their lips meeting…_

Leonard’s eyes opened, sunlight streaming across them from the loft’s window. He sat up, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand. 

“I had the craziest dream,” he said, reaching out a hand to touch Jim.

The bed was empty.

Leonard looked around the loft. “Jim?” he yelled.

“Downstairs,” came Jim’s answer. 

Leonard got out of the bed, searching for his pants. Noth bothering with his underwear, he pulled the jeans on, carefully zipping them up. “I had the craziest dream last night,” he said loud enough for Jim to hear him.

Jim didn’t reply.

“I’ve had it before, and it’s definitely you in it,” Leonard continued as he walked down the stairs. Jim stood in just his t-shirt and black briefs, rummaging around the kitchen for something. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Jim said as he continued to look for whatever.

“We were on this game show called _Perfect Love_ ,” Leonard said. He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, walking across the wood to the kitchen.

“Never heard of it,” Jim said in an off-handed tone. He held a bowl, a pad of paper, and something small and shiny Leonard couldn’t quite make out.

“Well, I mean…it’s in the dream, so it’s not necessarily a real game show,” Leonard continued, scratching at the dried come on his stomach. Fuck, he needed a shower. “I don’t think the fact that it’s a game show has any relevance; it’s just an indicator of my cultural origins. Like, say I was a tribesman from the Kalahari? The locale would have been completely different.”

Jim sat in a chair with his back to him, and Leonard saw that the small metal object was a razor blade. 

“But anyways, I was on _Perfect Love_ , but my life was in danger…”

“Are you ready?” Jim asked with an exasperated sigh. 

Leonard rubbed his eyes a second time. “To what?”

“To write a letter,” Jim said. He straightened out his right arm, and with his left hand, dug the razor blade into the flesh of his biceps. Blood seeped out of the wound, dripping into the bowl.

Leonard felt the blood drain out of his face as he watched Jim do this with seemingly no reaction. “What…you…”

Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he fainted.

There was nothing but darkness for about a minute before he heard it.

“Bones?” called a voice that sounded distant. “Bones, snap out of it.”  
Leonard opened one eye to see Jim kneeling above him on the floor. His arm had been bandaged, and his mouth had a worried set to it.

“Ow,” Leonard said as he sat up. He rubbed the back of his head. He then remembered what Jim did before he passed out and scowled at him. “Are you out of your mind? You could give yourself tetanus or hepatitis doing that! Jesus Christ…”

“We don’t have a lot of time before the blood coagulates,” Jim said, ignoring his tirade. “You need to write the note.”

“Write the note? In your blood?” Leonard said, feeling dizzy a second time.

Jim stared at him before rolling his eyes. “ _Yes_ , Bones, because then George will have it analyzed and know we’re serious. Get up and come on.”

Fighting back the urge the vomit, Leonard allowed himself to be pulled first into standing, and then into the chair. Jim handed him a feather. 

Steeling his nerves, Leonard dipped the feather into the blood and wrote the ransom note. Ten million dollars, unmarked bills, milepost 27. The blood dried quickly, and he looked up at Jim for approval.

“It’ll do,” Jim said as he folded up the letter and placed it in an envelope to mail.

Leonard turned to look at him. “What’s with you?”

“I’m fine,” Jim said, but his face was closed off, and his posture was stiff.

“You’re not acting fine, you’re acting like you did the first day,” Leonard said. “I thought after last night, we’d…”

“Last night was nothing,” Jim said. “Like I said, we’re adults. Who cares?”

Leonard only barely managed to reign in the impulse to recoil like he’d been slapped. He stared at Jim’s eyes, noting how hard and cold they looked. “It’s your world, Jim, I just live in it,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jim didn’t say anything as he stomped back up to the loft to put on his pants, and Leonard sat at the table, wondering exactly what he did that was so wrong.

\-----

Once again, Uhura and Spock stood before George Kirk. Spock held a piece of paper in his hands; the handwriting was in reddish-brown ink.

“We have performed an analysis on this paper,” Spock said to Kirk. “It is, in fact, the kidnapper’s handwriting and the blood of your son.” He slid the paper, which had been carefully wrapped in plastic, across the desk to Kirk.

Kirk peered at it over his glasses with a frown.

“Without our help, that could be the last trace of Jim you ever see,” Uhura added with a serious expression.

Kirk’s head shot up as he looked at each of them in turn.

“He wishes to make a straight switch with minimal delay,” Spock said. “Your son for the ten million dollars.”

Kirk picked up a black leather bag, holding it in his arms. He clutched it like he was adrift at sea and the bag was a piece of debris. “I want him back,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Of course,” Spock said.

“And I want McCoy _dead_ ,” Kirk hissed.

“That is understood, Mister Kirk,” Spock said, and Uhura forced herself to smile at the man.

“Excellent,” Kirk said as he relinquished the bag, placing it on the desk. Spock and Uhura reached out, barely getting a hand on it before he slammed his own down on the handles. They both favored him with curious stares. “And when this is all over… _I want this back_. Are we clear?”

Uhura fought the urge to punch him in the mouth.

Instead, she and Spock both nodded, and Kirk let go of the cash for real then. Spock placed the bag under one arm, and they walked out of the office together without looking back. 

As soon as the door was closed, Uhura made a loud annoyed sound. “Unbelievable. His son is in danger…”

“Jim is not actually in danger,” Spock couldn’t help but point out as they walked to the elevator.

“He doesn’t know that,” Uhura said. “For all he knows, he’s already been cut into pieces. Sure McCoy wouldn’t hurt a fly, but we’re the only party privy to that knowledge.”

Spock didn’t say anything, which meant that he agreed with her.

“I just…I cannot believe this,” Uhura continued. “How cold do you have to be?”  
Again, Spock did not speak. The elevator door closed in front of them, and they made their descent to the office’s garage.

“Are they in love yet?” Uhura asked.

Spock shrugged one shoulder. “I think perhaps when we meet up with them to make the trade, we shall have to give them…a push.”

Straightening her scarf, Uhura gave Spock a curious stare. “What kind of _push_?”

The door opened on the garage, and they walked to their waiting car. Spock put the money in the trunk, before getting in on the driver’s side.

He put the key into the ignition, starting the engine, and turned to Uhura. “Jeopardy, Uhura. It always works.”

Uhura stared at him as he drove, a sense of foreboding washing over her as they entered the crowded streets of Los Angeles.

\-----

The next day was pleasant, cool for fall but not too much so, and Bones and Jim walked towards the highway. Bones carried a length of rope, and Jim couldn’t help but smile at him.

In spite of how he felt when he woke up the morning after, Jim couldn’t resist being friendly to Bones. For a kidnapper, Bones had been very attentive and considerate. After that one day, he hadn’t bought steak again, for example, and Jim found he really liked talking to him.

They hadn’t had sex again, though, which Jim felt both relieved and disappointed by. They did, however, share a bed every night, and Jim had grown accustomed to having Bones’ arms around him while he slept.

“Anyways, Will was actually super nice. Extremely wealthy,” Jim said as they walked down the road. “Honorable. Amusing.”

“And?” Bones asked as they turned a corner.

“He’s only seven years old,” Jim admitted with a shrug.

Bones burst out laughing. “Not into pedophilia then?”

“Not really,” Jim said.

“What a pity,” Bones continued. “He sounds perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” Jim said with a sigh. “Then there was Jabilo. He was nice. _Very_ rich. But for a gay man…so _conventional_ , you know? He basically expected me to be a trophy husband.”

“Rich guys and conventional,” Bones said as he took a second to take in the foliage. The leaves changed, providing rich splashes of color along their route. “It’s a problem.”

They stopped by the side of the road. Jim stood in the shoulder, giving Bones a long, thoughtful look. “Then there was Jean-Luc.”

A car came up close to them. Bones waved his arms, signaling it to stop. It blew right past him, and he rolled his eyes.

“He was twenty-five years old,” Jim said with a sigh. “Handsome, exciting, invigorating, really. Wealthy and smart. God, he was so smart. Sophisticated, considerate…”

Another car pulled up. Bones held out his thumb in the universal sign for hitchhiking; again, the car blew past him. “So?”

Jim looked down at the ground and swallowed. He looked back up at Bones, but he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching upwards into a smile. “Well…I think we just sort-of…grew apart as people…”

It took Bones a second, but he laughed. “Oh my God. Really? The aerobics instructor?”

Jim bit back his own laughter as he played with the sleeve of his jacket. He walked into the road, and Bones traded places with him. “I already told you, it’s a common scenario,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice.

Bones crossed into the shoulder, still laughing as he took a seat on a large rock. “So who was next?”

Jim stopped smiling. “Well, I started having problems with my teeth.”

“With your teeth?” Bones asked with a curious expression.

“Yeah, with my teeth,” Jim said. A pick up truck approached; Jim held out his thumb, and the driver slammed on his breaks.

Jim did not miss the look of irritation that passed on Bones’ features. 

“Hey you,” the driver said. “You want a ride?”

“Hi, wow, thanks for stopping,” Jim said to him with a smile. He pulled out the gun, cocking it, and aiming it at the driver’s face. “So here’s the thing. We’re not stealing this, I promise. We’re just borrowing it, okay?”

The driver raised up his hands and nodded, and he hurried out of the car.

“Come on, Bones,” Jim said as he slid into the passenger seat. Bones took the driver’s, and they peeled out down the highway. “Thanks!” Jim called as they zoomed past the owner.

Jim set the gun on the dashboard. “That was easy.”

Bones didn’t say anything; he drove them to the appointed spot. It didn’t take very long, and he parked the truck by the milepost. He got out, spreading the rope down the highway. “I had that dream again last night,” he called.

Jim blinked. “What dream?” The end of the rope was at the truck, and Bones began to tie him up with a different piece of rope.

“We were on that game show called _Perfect Love_ ,” Bones answered.

“Fascinating,” Jim said with a sigh. Why did Bones insist on talking about this?

“We were on this game show, and my life was in danger,” Bones said as he bound up Jim’s hands.

“On a game show?” Jim raised an eyebrow.

“Strange things happened,” Bones continued. 

“I gathered,” Jim said as Bones knotted the ropes around his wrists.

“My life was in danger, but…” Bones looked up from his work, and their eyes met. Jim’s heart skipped a beat before he squashed it down. “But _you_ saved it.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“My heart beat so fast,” Bones continued. “And then…it stopped. I was dying, completely dying, when you saved me. You saved my life.”

Jim swallowed. He opened his mouth to reply, unable to tear his eyes away from Bones’.

“All right,” a voice shouted to them. “What are we waiting for?”

Bones grabbed Jim, pulling him in front of him and pointing the gun at his head. Jim fought the urge to lean into his body as he took in the sight before him.

A black woman stood in front of a red Cadillac, dressed like something out of _Mad Men_. “Are we getting on with this or not?” she said, and she held a leather bag in one hand.

“Sure,” Bones yelled back. 

“Send Mister Kirk over,” she said.

“Nope, first the money. That was the deal,” Bones countered.

The woman walked towards the long rope that lay on the ground. “Are you all right, Mister Kirk?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “Just somewhat scared.”

The woman reached for the rope, and she tied it to the handles of the bag. Bones knelt down on the ground, grabbing his end of it. He pulled the bag to him down the road, and the woman watched this with a blank expression on her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said to Jim. “Everything will be all right very soon.”

Bones had the bag, and he untied it. He then unzipped it, taking in the sight of piles upon piles of money. Jim made a point to keep his eyes aimed straight ahead at the woman.

“Well?” Jim said in a whisper out the side of his mouth. 

Bones exhaled sharply. “It’s all here.”

“Now send him over,” the woman reiterated.

Bones shoved the gun into Jim’s back, pushing him forward. “Go!”

Jim ran towards the woman, who for some reason had a stricken look on her face. “Son of a bitch,” she said.

Before Jim could inquire, a gunshot sounded, hitting her car in the headlight. Jim cried out, ducking himself down so Bones wouldn’t hit him. Another shot rang out, this one hitting the car in its front tire. 

“Yes,” Bones said as he threw the money in the back of the pick up. He dove into the driver’s seat and took off. 

“I swear,” the woman said as she whipped open the driver’s door. “You can’t trust anyone down here.” She popped the trunk, pulling out a shovel. 

Jim stared at it for a minute. “Hey, what’s that for?”

“Come with me,” she said as she walked in the direction Bones drove. 

Jim blinked. “Aren’t you going to even untie me first?”

“No,” she said. “Just come along.”

Jim shrugged, but he needed to go in that direction anyway. He was due his share of the cash, after all.

\-----

Leonard looked out the back window of the truck as he floored it, driving down the highway with a grin.

He got the money! He got the money; he was rich. He’d never have to work a dead end job like being a janitor again.

He’d never see Jim again, either.

The smile faded off his face as he turned around a bend. 

He couldn’t figure Jim out; he was hot and cold. Sometimes it seemed like Jim could hardly stand breathing the same air, but other times it was like he couldn’t stand to be apart from him. It was confusing, and it was a minor miracle that Leonard could concentrate on getting the money with Jim pressed so close to him. 

Leonard sighed. 

In the road ahead of him lay a body. Leonard slammed on the breaks, steering the car into the other lane to avoid running it over. It appeared to be a man in a trench coat, and Leonard kept the car running as he stepped out of it to make sure he was okay. 

He took the gun, though, just in case, but he put it in his coat pocket.

Leonard crouched down next to him, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

The man opened his eyes, pulled out a Glock, and aimed it right at Leonard’s chest.

“I would advise against you moving even one muscle,” he said. He stretched like a cat, and turned his head. Leonard glanced where he looked, and saw Jim and the woman walking towards him with a shovel. “What occupied your attention for so long?”

“He shot up the car,” the woman said, and her voice was tight and furious.

The man gave Leonard a curious look. “You shot our car? Why would you do such a thing?” He lay so he draped himself across Leonard’s lap, and he reached into the coat, pulling out the revolver. 

“I was trying to make a getaway,” Leonard said, though his words came out feeble and unsure. 

For reasons Leonard could not understand, this made the man’s face fill with anger. He stood, aiming both guns at Leonard’s face. “You attempted to make a getaway?”

Cold panic started in Leonard’s chest, spreading throughout his body. His breathing became shallow, and he squeezed his eyes closed. He heard him walk away, and Leonard doubled-over, resting his hands on the ground. He fought to control himself lest he hyperventilate. 

Jim came over to him. “Bones?”

“I’ll…” Leonard coughed. “I’ll be okay.”

The man and the woman stood talking a few feet away. The wind blew, catching most of their voices, but Leonard could hear a little bit of what they said.

“---all right?”

“It’s hard to tell,” the woman answered. “I don’t think it’s worked.”

“I repeat what I told you before, Uhura,” the man said. “Jeopardy. It always works.”

Not sure what the hell that meant, Leonard focused again on panicking. He choked out a couple sobs, and Jim sighed above him. “Bones, it’s all right. It’ll all be all right.”

“No, it will not,” the man said. “Take him to the woods. You know the rest,” he told the woman, who nodded.

“Come with me,” she said, gesturing to Leonard.

“You’re going to kill me,” Leonard said, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She hesitated, but she didn’t deny it. “Come this way. Now.”

Leonard stood, biting back a curse as he did what he was told. He made eye contact with Jim, who looked like he had something to say. His eyes were the softest Leonard had ever seen them, and Jim cleared his throat, changing his expression so the other two people didn’t notice. 

“Bye, Bones,” was all Jim said as she pressed a gun into Leonard’s back. She steered him into the woods, and they walked for several hundred feet. They moved deeper and deeper into them, coming across a clearing.

“Okay,” the woman said, tossing Leonard the shovel. It landed next to him. “This is far enough.”

“You really are going to kill me, aren’t you?” Leonard said as he picked it up.

The woman inclined her head in the barest of nods. “Yes.”

The pain tightened in his chest a second time, and again his breathing bottomed out. “Oh God,” he said, struggling against the urge to vomit. “Then why do I have to dig?”

The woman shrugged, but her words were hesitant. “If you dig, I promise when the time comes I’ll shoot you in the head. It will be quick and painless. If you don’t, then I shoot you in the testicle and leave you here to bleed to death in agony.”

Some choice.

Leonard began to dig. He wondered how Jim fared with the other man as he did so. It took a while, but he managed to make a grave-sized hole. He kept moving down it further and further.

Leonard was about a foot and a half deep when the woman, who sat at a tree watching, began to speak. “Have you ever felt like you’re not in control of events?”

Leonard wiped his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “I’m in the woods digging my own grave so you can execute me. I’d say I have a pretty decent idea how that feels.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” the woman said, and her eyes were patient. “I mean, have you ever been doing something and felt like it was destined to happen…and then, it doesn’t.”

Leonard stared at her, unsure of what to say. She was about to murder him but wanted to have an existential conversation first?

“What happens when the forces of destiny are no longer in control?” she finished.

Leonard’s hands shook where they gripped the shovel. “I…I don’t know.”

“You see? That’s the issue,” she said, gesturing wildly with her hands. “I don’t think even _He_ knows what’s going on down here. The chaos, the hatred…this violence…”

Leonard squinted at her in the midday sun. “Who are you talking about? He who?”

The woman looked off into the distance for a minute. When she turned her attention back to him, she had a resigned set to her mouth. “Nothing. Just dig.”

Leonard resumed digging.

\-----

Jim walked up the man, who of all things chewed tobacco. He held out his wrists. “Can you cut me free?”

The man stared at him.

“Please?” Jim said as he pointedly shoved his hands into the man’s personal space. “I’m sore; the rope hurts.”

The man pulled out a switchblade, opening it. 

Jim looked off towards the woods; he paid enough attention to know where Bones and that lady had entered them. “What’s she going to do with him?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

“I believe her plan is to shoot him in the back of the head,” the man answered. 

Jim froze, feeling the blood drain out of his face. No…she couldn’t. She couldn’t kill Bones.

Could she?

Sizing him up, the man spit. “Would that be an issue for you?”

Jim looked at him; his dark eyes were humorless and cold.

“No,” Jim said as he averted his gaze.

The man cut Jim’s bonds, and Jim rubbed his skin. “Thanks,” he said.

Nodding, the man spit a second time.

Jim paced alongside the truck for what felt like hours. The man watched the woods, finally sighing a little. “I have no idea what is taking so long,” he said. “I should have shot him myself.”

Jim placed his hands in his pockets to wipe off the sweat on his palms. If that woman hadn’t returned yet, that meant Bones was still alive. But how to get away from this guy and save him? “Yeah, well, you can’t trust other people for shit. All they ever do is wreck things.”

The man faced Jim with a curious expression. “I assume this means you are not in the love situation…”

Jim blinked at the change in subject. “What?”

“I am asking if you are in love with another person,” the man said. 

“Why is that even remotely any of your business?” Jim said, brushing his hair off his face.

Walking over to him with the ghost of a smile, the man shrugged. “It was only a question.”

Jim considered him for all of two seconds before reaching both his fists back and sucker-punching him straight in the nose. The man fell to the ground, and Jim kicked him in the face for good measure.

“Fuck off,” Jim said. He turned and ran into the woods, hoping he wasn’t too late. He sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, praying that Bones and that lady had walked straight. 

Up ahead, he heard the sounds of arguing. He had almost made it.

“---stop digging now,” the woman said. “Time’s up.”

“No, please,” Bones begged as she pulled the shovel away from him, tossing it to the side.

“Lay down on your stomach,” she said as she pulled out a gun. “I did promise to make it go quickly. May God have mercy on you…”

She didn’t finish her sentence because Jim grabbed the shovel and beaned her in the back of the head. She fell on top of Bones in the grave, who screamed.

“Bones!” Jim reached a hand down to help him out of it.

“Jim! Jim, oh God!” Bones said as he got pulled up. 

“Come on, we gotta go,” Jim said, still holding Bones’ hand. He grabbed the woman’s gun, and they took off together through the woods and back to the truck. 

“Who the fuck are they?” Bones asked.

“I have no idea, just keep going,” Jim said. “Don’t think about it right now. We need to get out of here first.”

They reached the truck, and Jim opened the driver’s door, sliding into the passenger seat. Bones got in next to him, and he gunned the engine and drove. “Fuck, I thought we were in trouble.”

“I told you,” Jim said. “I told you: don’t get caught. Don’t get out of the car. Don’t go into the woods with strange women carrying shovels.”

“You were right,” Bones said.

“I’m always right, you should keep that in mind,” Jim said. 

“Wait…what about the money?” Bones asked. 

“Shit,” Jim said. Before he could continue that thought, a thud sounded behind them, and Jim and Bones turned to face it. 

The man in the trench coat stood upright in the bed of their truck holding an axe. He bashed open the glass of the back window, and Jim and Bones both screamed. 

The man pulled out one of the guns and cocked it, aiming for Bones. Jim reacted without thinking, turning backwards and grabbing the gun, aiming it at the cab’s roof. The man’s expression soured as he struggled with Jim. The gun went off into the roof, and Bones slammed on the brakes. 

Flying over the truck, the man rolled down onto the ground, hitting the pavement with an ugly sound.

Bones and Jim panted as they waited for him to get up.

“Holy shit,” Jim said.

Bones put the truck into reverse and backed up about twenty feet; there was no sign of him. He furrowed his brows, staring down at the road. “How did…?”

Jim sighed. “Never mind, let’s just go.” 

Bones put the car back into drive and took off, and Jim took a look behind them to make sure the body was gone; it was.

At least, until Bones screamed.

Jim turned back to the front of the truck; climbing up the hood, was the man. His suit was torn and tattered, and there was blood dripping down his face, but he clung to the hood of their car. “Holy fucking shit!”

Reaching out his one hand, Jim saw the man still had his gun. He cocked it and aimed it right for Jim.

“Jump,” Jim said in a whisper.

“What?” 

“Jump! Jump!” Jim opened his door and dove out of the truck, Bones following suit. The two of them rolled along the asphalt, finally coming to a stop. Jim sat up and watched as the truck veered off the road, dropping down a hill into a ravine. It impacted against a rock.

There was no way he could have survived that.

Bones helped Jim stand, and they stared together for a while at the wreckage. Without a word, they turned and made their way back up the road. It was a decent walk back to whatever the hell those people were’s car. 

Bones pulled out a jack and changed the tire. Jim stood next to him, keeping an eye out for the woman in case she came to. 

“I think we’ve outstayed our welcome here,” Jim said. 

Bones glanced up at him. “What do you suggest?’

“Back to civilization,” Jim said. “Also, I’m hungry. As soon as we’re done here, let’s grab some snacks.”

“All right,” Bones said, having finished changing the tire. “We’re good to go.”

Jim nodded, getting into the driver’s seat. They took off, driving down the highways back to Los Angeles.

\-----

They had just hit the suburbs when the car’s fuel light came on. Jim turned them into a gas station, and Leonard filled the car up.

He watched Jim moving throughout the convenience store, grabbing an array of appalling snack foods. 

The car finished gassing up, and Leonard paid the attendant. They were running low on cash; they needed to regroup, find their money, and get it. 

He watched as Jim argued with the cashier about something. It went on for long enough that Leonard walked into the store, catching the tail end of the conversation.

“I’m sorry, sir, but store policy is that I must destroy the card if it’s reported as stolen,” she said as she pulled out a pair of scissors. Her nametag read Marla, and she did, indeed, look sorry.

“Lady, it’s _my_ card, you can’t do this!” Jim flailed at her as she cut up the card into thirds. “This is unbelievable! I’m calling your manager!”

Leonard put a hand on the small of Jim’s back, which soothed him somewhat. “How much do we owe you?”

“Thirty dollars even,” Marla said.

Leonard handed her his last thirty bucks. “Here you go.” He grabbed the bag of food, and took Jim’s hand, pulling him out the store.

They got into the car, Jim crossing his arms angrily over his chest. “My father…my own father…reported all my credit cards as stolen! I have never been more humiliated in my life than I am right now!”

“I know how you feel,” Leonard said as he drove them back onto the highway.

“Oh, you don’t begin to know how I feel,” Jim said. “Only the very rich could know how I feel.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Leonard said, reaching a hand out to stroke Jim’s thigh. 

Jim huffed, but his hand did cover Leonard’s, encouraging him to keep it there. “This is all part of his bullshit about how I’m going to sink to my own ‘natural level’ on the bottom like _her_.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Like who?”

Something caught Jim’s attention, because his entire attitude shifted. His eyes lit up with a hungry fire that Leonard hadn’t seen before. “Pull over.”

Pulling over put them in a parking lot, and Leonard looked at the sign on the building.

City Security Bank.

Jim pulled out the gun he took from that woman, popping out the clip to check it. He was satisfied with what he saw, because he clicked it back into place. He then emptied the brown paper bag that came with their groceries, tucking it under his left arm and placing the gun inside it.

“Oh no,” Leonard said as he followed him. “Oh no. Jim---“

“Stop worrying so much and live a little, Bones,” Jim said as they walked towards the bank. “It’s my first time, too.”

“That’s not what I’m worrying about,” Leonard said as Jim swung the bag under his arm. 

“Just, trust me,” Jim said with a smile. “I know what I’m doing.” They entered the bank, and they stood in line to see a teller. It was quiet, although there was a family there with a little girl.

“Next,” said a teller with a smile, and Jim and Leonard walked up to her window. 

Jim drew the gun, and the teller’s face shifted to one of concealed fear. “Hello. I’d like to make a withdrawal.”

Leonard sighed. “The least you could do is not use clichés,” he whispered. 

Jim handed her the paper bag. “Fill it. And don’t bother hitting your silent alarm.” He moved the gun so it pointed right at the little girl’s temple. “Do it or she dies.”

“Oh my God,” the girl’s mother screamed. “Please! Not my daughter! Don’t hurt my daughter!”

Playing along with Jim’s “bad cop” routine, Leonard grabbed the woman and tried to calm her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. My partner’s not going to kill your daughter.”

“Yes, I am!” Jim said as he watched the teller load stacks of bills into the bag. “Nice and calm, everyone be nice and calm! If you all don’t calm down, this girl’s brains go all over the wall!”

“Jesus, Jim,” Leonard said. “You can’t be serious!”

“You shut up most of all,” Jim said as he turned, aiming the gun at Leonard’s forehead. Leonard swallowed, torn between hyperventilating like he did before or decking Jim in the jaw. “Doesn’t feel so hot when it’s you, does it?”

“That was different,” Leonard said as the barrel pressed into his forehead. What was going on? Why was Jim trying to kill him? None of this made sense, and Leonard was scared shitless.

“Really? Didn’t feel different to me,” Jim continued. “Felt just like this. Do you understand it now, Bones? But unlike you, I don’t lack the balls to pull the trigger.” Jim removed the safety. “Goodbye, Bones.”

Was this part of the act? Leonard took a chance that it was. “Okay, fine! Kill me, but don’t touch the girl!”

“Your bag is full,” the teller said. Jim pulled the gun off Leonard’s head, opening his arms to catch it. 

Leonard opened his eyes just in time to see Jim give him a subtle wink. He handed the money to Leonard, who took it with a glare. “Go ahead, I’ll make sure we’re not followed.”

Leonard stalked out of the bank with a stony expression. After a minute, he heard Jim run up next to him.

“Extremely amusing,” Leonard said in an icy voice.

“ _Kill me, but don’t touch the girl_ ,” Jim laughed with delight. “Oh my God, Bones, you’re brilliant! You should be in movies or on television!”

“Very funny,” Leonard replied.

They were at the car, and Jim grabbed Leonard by the arm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s fucking wrong?” Leonard rounded on Jim, getting in his face. “I thought you were going to blow my God damn brains out, you crazy sack of shit, that’s what’s wrong!”

He threw the money into the car, slamming the back door behind him in his wake. 

Jim stood before him with his eyes full of hurt. “Bones, I wouldn’t…I would never shoot you! In fact, I’m having a great time!”

“How wonderful,” Leonard said.

“It certainly is!” Jim closed the distance between them, sliding his mouth across Leonard’s. Leonard blinked at him as he did it again; this time was more passionate, more insistent, and Leonard couldn’t help but kiss him back. 

_Jim lay in the back seat of the car with a hole in his chest, blood seeping out of it. His breathing was labored, and Leonard knew he couldn’t get him to a hospital in time…_

Shaking his head to clear it of the vision he had, Leonard turned back to the bank just in time to see a security guard come running out. 

“What’s wrong?” Jim asked, as Leonard blocked his view.

Leonard turned to face him. “It’s over, Jim,” he said, standing in between him and the guard. 

The guard took aim and fired, and the bullet embedded in Leonard’s thigh. He fell to the ground, screaming, as blood poured out of the wound. 

“Jesus,” Jim said. “Get in the car!” 

“I…I can’t…”

“Get in the car, Bones,” Jim said, pushing him towards the backseat. Leonard did as he was told, managing to climb in and rest on his uninjured side. Jim started the car and floored it, peeling out of the parking lot and back to the major road in no time.

Leonard moaned on the backseat. “I’m dying, Jim, I think I’m really dying.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Jim said as he steered them back to LA. “Trust me, Bones, you’re not gonna die.”

“Are you taking me to a hospital? Because I don’t want to die in a hospital,” Leonard continued.

The LA city limits stretched before them, and Leonard had never been so glad to see anything in his life.

“I’m not taking you to a hospital,” Jim said.

Leonard stared at the back of his head. “What? What do you mean, you’re not taking me to a hospital? I demand to be taken to a hospital!”

Jim drove them to a pure white mansion up in the Hollywood Hills. He paused at the gate, pressing a button on the intercom. 

_Who is it?_

“It’s me, Gary,” Jim said. “I’ve got a little situation I need help with.”

A buzzer sounded and the gate swung open. Jim pulled the car up to the house, parking it in the open garage. He came around to the back, pulling Leonard out of the car. He walked him through the garage to the door leading into the house. 

“What is this place?”

“Gary’s a…friend,” Jim said. “He’s also a doctor.”

Jim carted Leonard through the first floor to an area that looked like a dentist’s office. Everything was pristine white, and Leonard felt uneasy in his surroundings. 

A handsome man with a bandage around his head appeared. “Oh my,” he said, taking half of Leonard’s weight to help Jim. “This is a sticky predicament.” They led Leonard into an exam room, laying him down on the chair. Jim removed Leonard’s jeans, throwing them across the room. The guy, Gary he supposed, put a blue dentist’s bib on and leaned over Leonard. “Open your mouth for me,” he said.

Not really understanding why, Leonard did as he asked.

“Very good,” Gary said, examining his teeth. “Very good indeed. You could have a perfect smile…what’s your name?”

“Bones,” Jim said at the same moment Leonard answered with “Leonard.”

“Bones, I like that,” Gary said. “For two thousand dollars, I can change your life.”

“No thanks,” Leonard said, frowning because he used Jim’s nickname for him. 

Gary sighed. “Listen, do you think that a perfect smile happens over night? Do you think that Jim’s smile is his own?”

Leonard looked at Jim, who leaned against a wall with his hands in his pockets. 

“It’s not. It’s _mine_ ,” Gary said, and Leonard decided he didn’t like him. “I gave it to him, just like I can give you one. I’ll fix your teeth to perfection for twelve thousand even.”

“I didn’t get shot in the teeth,” Leonard said with a growl.

“Let me tell you something,” Gary said with a smug grin. “It wouldn’t have made a difference if you had.” He threw his head back and laughed, causing Jim to make an exasperated noise. “If you wait another year, we’re talking fifty grand worth of major reconstruction…”

“If you wait another year, he’ll be dead,” Jim snapped.

Leonard shot him a grateful look.

“It’s just a friendly free consultation,” Gary said. He lowered the patient chair, and then sat in a chair of his own. He grabbed a scalpel from the tray. “You know, they told me to take a break. _Take a break_ , they said,” he repeated on the edge of a laugh. “Go get counseling, you know? Fuck them. What do they fucking know? They wanted me to stay in the hospital; I discharged myself this afternoon. Lucky for you two.”

He pulled his surgical light down to rest directly above Leonard’s thigh. Gary stared at it for a minute, deciding what to do first.

“So, have you done this before?” Leonard asked, dread washing over him.

Gary scoffed. “The principles of surgery are the same above and below the neck.”

Without so much a warning, Gary shoved the scalpel into Leonard’s thigh, making an incredibly sloppy incision. Blood spurted up into the air, and Jim clapped a hand over his mouth. 

Leonard screamed, his hands clenching into fists. “Why didn’t you anesthetize me?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll pass out as the pain gets worse.” Gary shrugged.

Gary made another, deeper incision, and indeed, Leonard passed out from the pain.

\-----

Jim watched from the doorway as Bones slept, Gary having finally gotten the bullet out. He longed to go in there and lay with him, but he didn’t know if Bones would want that when he woke.

“He’s fine, Jim,” Gary shouted from the living room. “Come down here.”

Jim turned away and headed downstairs. Gary lay on the sofa, shirtless and in a white pair of pants. He held out some white fabric to Jim, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“That nurse’s outfit you used to wear for me,” Gary said, pouring them champagne. “I thought maybe you’d like to put it on again. For old time’s sake.”

Jim held the fabric, looking back up to where Bones slept, not sure why he felt compelled to do so. He didn’t owe Bones anything; they didn’t have anything between them for him to be owed. Sleeping together once didn’t make a relationship, let alone a couple of sloppy kisses after a bank heist. 

Jim turned back to Gary, considering him. The thought of anything actually happening with Gary turned his stomach, also for reasons Jim didn’t understand. Well…wearing the outfit wouldn’t hurt. He’d just make sure it didn’t go any further.

“Sure,” Jim said with a smile. “It’s the least I can do after shooting you.”

He walked into the bathroom and changed out of his clothes into the minidress. It barely covered his crotch and ass, and he left the top part of it unbuttoned, exposing his chest. He walked back into the living room, where Gary whistled as he handed him the champagne. Jim took it and downed half of it in one gulp.

Gary pulled out a Polaroid camera. He queued up some music on the stereo, and loud bass pumped throughout the house. “Let me get your picture, sweetheart,” Gary said. 

Jim rolled his eyes, but stretched out on the sofa, one leg hanging over the back of it. Gary stood on the cushion and took pictures of him, throwing each one off and away. “Oh yeah, Jim, that’s good. Give it to me.”

Jim snorted. “You sound like a 70s porn director.”

“Hey now,” Gary said as he took another picture. “We both now I’m sleazy but not _that_ sleazy.”

Laughing a little, Jim nodded. “True.”

“So where’d you pick this guy up, Jim? And why did you show up on my stoop with gunshot wounds?”

Jim smiled for the camera, spreading his legs a little. There really was no point in lying. “He kidnapped me. Now we’re working together. The gunshot was from a bank robbery.”

Gary smiled. “You always did know how to show a man a good time.” He finished the roll and put another in the camera. “Turn over.”

The laughing stopped. “What?”

“Turn over, babe,” Gary said. “Turn over and flash me that magnificent ass of yours.”

There was that sick feeling in Jim’s stomach again, but he did as he was asked. He kicked up one heel, the other one laying flat as Gary took picture after picture of his ass. 

“Flip back over,” Gary said, Jim followed directions, relieved at not being so objectified any longer. Gary draped himself next to Jim on the sofa, putting their faces close together. “Smile pretty, smile big,” he commanded, and Jim did. 

The flash went off, and when Jim’s vision cleared, he saw Bones standing in the doorway of the living room in an Atlanta Falcons jersey and sweatpants.

The look on his face was like nothing Jim had ever seen. He looked betrayed, nauseous, and angry all at once.

“Bonesie!” Gary called, setting down the camera. “Come on in. Join the party. Hey, how’s that leg feel?”

Bones didn’t answer as he hobbled down the steps. 

“Here, I’ll pour you some champagne,” Gary said. He got up, his hands caressing Jim’s thighs as he did so. “Excuse me, love.”

Jim felt like he should explain, but he didn’t. Instead he gave Bones a pointed stare, challenging him to say anything.

Bones didn’t; he simply averted his gaze.

Gary crossed the room, handing Bones a full-to-the-brim champagne flute. “So I understand you’re something of a fugitive.”

Bones’ eyes widened, as he looked at Jim in stunned silence.

It was Jim’s turn to avoid his gaze.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Gary said. “Jim and I go way back.”

Bones raised an eyebrow. “Oh. You’re _the_ dentist.”

“Yes, I am,” Gary said as they both looked at Jim. Jim still wouldn’t meet either of their eyes, looking instead at the hem of his skirt. “We met over that particular fine set of ivories. In fact, I gave him his first filling.”

Bones took the glass of champagne and threw it in Gary’s face. Jim’s head snapped up, and he looked at Bones as if to say _what the fuck was that_.

“Oh, you stupid fuck,” Gary said as he wiped his eyes. “I wish you hadn’t done that. Now I have to hurt you, which is inconvenient and undignified.”

Gary punched Bones in the stomach, making him drop to the floor. Bones sputtered, trying to regain his breath. 

“You stupid…get up!” Gary circled around Bones like an apex predator stalking its dinner.

Jim clenched his fists. He stood, running across the room and grabbed Gary by the shoulders. “Leave him alone, Gary!”

Gary grabbed Jim and shoved him back onto the sofa. “Stay out of this!”

Bones managed to right himself, standing again. He coughed a few times.

Gary grabbed his face. “Are you all right?”

Before he could move, Bones head-butted Gary right in the nose. There was a sickening crunch as it broke, and the impact stunned him, knocking him on his back on the floor. His eyes fluttered closed.

Bones immediately grabbed his head. “Ow, mother-fuck that hurts,” he said. 

Jim sighed. “I’ll get my shit,” he said, going into the bathroom to retrieve his pants, shirt, and jacket. He came back, and he and Bones went out to their car in the garage. Jim turned on the car, and they left.

They rode, and the silence was awkward.

“I’ll give you a chance to explain exactly what you were trying to achieve back there,” Jim said. 

“How about you do some explaining to me?” Bones said without looking at Jim.

“I didn’t want you to bleed to death,” Jim said. “And I think that my decision making saved your life.”

“I would have rather bled to death than witnessed that,” Bones spat.

Jim sputtered. “What are you even talking about?”

“I can’t believe I have to spell this out,” Bones said. “You and Gary in an advanced state of foreplay!”

“Oh whatever, he totally would have passed out drunk or from the frontal lobe injury if you hadn’t come along,” Jim said. 

Bones stared out the window. “Yeah, sure.”

“And even if we were about to get physical, which _we weren’t_ ,” Jim continued. “What the hell does it matter to you, anyways?”

Bones stayed silent, but it had a quality to it that Jim recognized, this time, for what it was. He stopped the car.

“You thought we have something,” he said, turning to face Bones.

“It’s possible,” Bones said, finally looking at him.

Jim sighed. “But why? Why, Bones? Why…why do we have to _have something_? We get along just fine. Having something ruins everything.”

The look on Bones’ face was impassive, but his eyes were devastated. 

Jim wondered if he was maybe wrong about it ruining things, but he didn’t back down. “So what? What’s the plan now? You gonna ask me to marry you?”

“Of course not,” Bones whispered, turning away again.

“But you thought about it,” Jim said, not sure why he kept pushing.

“Don’t be absurd,” Bones answered. 

“It never even once occurred to you,” Jim said.

Bones buried his face in his hands. “Would it really be so bad?” 

“Unbelievable,” Jim said. “Just forget it.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

They sat in silence again, and Jim searched for something, anything to say. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care.”

Making an aggrieved noise, Jim gripped the steering wheel more tightly in his hands. “Do you want to get out of the car?”

Bones’ own hands clenched. “Are you asking me to get out of the car?”

“No,” Jim snapped. “I’m asking if you want to leave.”

“It’s the same damn thing,” Bones said.

For some reason, this pushed Jim over the edge. His eyes burned, and he had to force back a sob. “No, it’s not. One is a request, the other’s a question.”

Bones opened the door. “Fine. If that’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.”

Jim wanted to stop him from leaving, but instead he shouted, “No, if that’s what _you_ want, I won’t stop you!”

Bones slammed the door closed. “And don’t even fucking think about asking where I’m going!”

“Oh yeah, well, don’t you even fucking imagine that I care!” 

Bones’ mouth formed a thin, tight line as he said “Exactly the fucking problem!”

Without another word, Jim restarted the car and took off. He looked back at Bones by the side of the road, and he had to struggle to keep from breaking down.

“Fuck,” he said as he drove down the hills and out the city towards Long Beach.

There was only one place he could go now. Hopefully, his mother was home.

\-----

Uhura sat at a desk with a blank sheet of paper in front of her, not knowing where to start.

Spock, who had a patch over one eye and his right arm in a sling, came up close behind her. He reached out a hand to touch her.

“Stop,” she said. “Stop hovering. I can’t concentrate.”

Spock pulled back his hand. “Have you written anything yet?”

Uhura stared down at the paper, pen in hand. “I…I haven’t…I mean…what am I supposed to write?”

“It is my understanding that love letters primarily deal with the subject of love,” Spock said.

“I need time to think,” she said, her voice echoing throughout the room. 

“Time is a luxury we can ill afford,” Spock said, walking over to an old phonograph player. He selected a track on a record, and it played throughout their headquarters. It was a soft, orchestral piece to set the mood. “Every day they spend apart makes our task more difficult.”

Spock ran from one side of the room to the other, and Uhura looked up from the paper with a curious expression.

“And should George Kirk find Leonard McCoy before we do,” Spock continued as he brought over a painting on an easel. “There will be nothing left of Leonard McCoy for Jim Kirk to love.”

Uhura nodded; Spock was right. He was totally, one hundred percent right. She needed to write this letter, and she needed to do it now. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Spock said.

Uhura sighed. “Back when I was alive, there was a man…”

One of his eyebrows rose. “You wrote to a man?”

“A long, long time ago,” Uhura said, thinking back to those days.

“You never mentioned this previously,” Spock said.

“It never came up,” Uhura said with a shrug. “Nothing personal, Spock. His father did not…approve of us being together. It was just young love, you know? But I wrote so often, both passion and despair.”

Spock came over with a bud in a tiny white porcelain vase. He set it on the table next to her right hand, and Uhura looked up at him. “I never realized you possess a romantic soul,” he said.

“I often wonder what became of him,” Uhura continued. “He was so sweet. Barnhart was his name. His father was a Colonel in the army.”

“Uhura, you are qualified for this task,” Spock said, again hovering behind her chair. “You can write the letter.”

“That’s the problem,” Uhura said. “I didn’t write those. Letters, I mean.”

“What then?”

She smiled. “Love poetry, Spock. I wrote poems.” 

“A poem is more than adequate,” Spock said. “If that is easier and less time-consuming, by all means.”

Uhura got to work, and in forty-five minutes, it was done. She folded the paper, sticking it into an envelop that was addressed to _Jim Kirk c/o His Mother_. “I’m finished,” she declared. 

Spock looked at her with a small smile. “Excellent. May I know what it says?”

“You’ll find out when it’s time,” she said as she grabbed her coat. “Come on, we need to drop this off so he gets it today.”

They sped out of the warehouse in their car, driving to Long Beach. A little house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, and the mailbox said _Kirk_ in pink script. Spock slid the letter into the box, and ducked around the house. His timing was perfect, as the mailman pulled up. He dropped off the rest of the mail, and a blonde woman wearing glasses stepped out of the house. 

Winona, whom Uhura remembered from reading Jim’s file, went through the mail, talking to herself as she did so. “Bill, bill, mortgage, bill, junk…” She reached Uhura’s poem. “Hm. Jim?” she called into the house.

Jim stepped out onto the front porch wearing a plaid shirt and ripped jeans. “Yeah?”

Winona held out the envelope. “This came for you.”

Jim took the letter and ripped it open. He read its contents, and a slow smile lit up his features. He ran into the house, only to come right back out in with his keys.

“Oh Jim,” Winona said. “They only want one thing. Sometimes they may want it more than once, but they only want the one thing.”

Jim didn’t pay her any mind as he got into his car, backing out of the driveway and heading into Los Angeles. Spock crept back around to the car, and Uhura pushed the pedal to the floor. They sped fast enough they managed to pass Jim on the I-110. They drove into the city, reaching their destination a good fifteen minutes before he would. They parked across the street from Boyce’s bar, and Spock pulled out listening equipment they procured from the CIA. 

The sky turned gray and opened up. Spock was also prepared for this, and pulled two clear plastic slickers out from the trunk. Uhura tied a scarf over her hair to protect it, and they sat and waited.

“You should have let me read it,” Spock said.

“That poem was very personal,” Uhura said. 

“I am assuming it was satisfactory,” Spock continued. “Unless Jim went elsewhere.”

Jim pulled up, and he ducked his head down to avoid getting wet. He ran into the bar, pausing to fix his hair. There were no patrons, as it was technically before opening. Inside it mopping the floor was Leonard McCoy in another horror show of a shirt. Boyce, the owner and manager, stood behind the counter settling up the night before’s tallies. 

Uhura pulled out a pair of binoculars and watched closely.

The doorbell rang as Jim entered, and McCoy and Boyce both stared at him. 

Jim fixed his hair a second time. “I…I got it. Your poem.”

McCoy furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry?

“Your poem, the one you wrote me,” Jim said. 

“Poem?” McCoy looked patently confused.

Jim held up the paper, which had gotten a little wet. He took a deep breath before reading it. “ _Oh desert me wretched loneliness and return me to my love, for he and I have parted, and the sky is up above. Your limbs, so svelte and slender…_ ” He looked up, his eyes finding McCoy’s. “ _Your touch, so soft and tender._ ”

“Jim…” McCoy said.

“Wait,” Jim said. “ _But the part that makes me flock…is…_ ” He looked back up at McCoy with a grin. “Well. I’d say it, but there are witnesses.”

Spock turned to Uhura with a raised eyebrow. “What is the line of the poem?”

Uhura shrugged, lowering the binoculars. “It’s a simple literary allusion to a part of the male anatomy.”

Spock stared at her.

“Really?”

Uhura sighed. “Oh don’t give me that, it fit the line, and it obviously made Jim happy.”

“Jim,” McCoy tried again.

“The last verse,” Jim said. “ _Just as the flowers blossom in the gaze of the shining sun, I would be most honored if you would say I am the one_.”

Spock continued to stare at Uhura. The expression in his eyes was ice-cold.

Uhura rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal.” She turned her attention back to the scene in the bar, and wisely, Spock did the same. 

“Bones,” Jim said. “Bones, no one has ever written me a poem before. All those other guys…they never cared about _me_. All they wanted was to own this.”

Uhura tightened her grip on the binoculars. Spock listened intently with the surveillance equipment. 

“The point is that I never would have opened my heart to any of those men, and before I met you, I never believed that there was any alternative. But when you stopped that bullet…”

Uhura dropped her binoculars, jumping up and down. “Yes!” The corners of Spock’s lips twitched upwards in a smile.

“And then you got the wrong idea about Gary,” Jim said. “I should have understood, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Jim,” McCoy said, although his skin was pale, and his eyes looked haunted.

“Let me finish, please?” Jim took a tentative step forward. “This is, God, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I can do this with you because I trust you…”

“I didn’t write it.”

Uhura froze mid-jump, and the smile faded off Spock’s face.

“Wait, what?” Jim’s eyes filled with shadows.

McCoy sighed. “I didn’t write it; I’ve never written a poem in my life.” 

“How in the hell could anyone be that honest?” Uhura said, staring at him in disbelief.

“It is his handwriting, tell him it is in his handwriting,” Spock said with an edge of desperation to his voice.

“But it’s your handwriting,” Jim said, and Uhura breathed a sigh of relief. “It has this address. The paper even smells like your aftershave.”

“I. Didn’t. Write. It.” McCoy said, placing his hands on his hips.

Everything about Jim was crushed, from the look in his eyes to the set of his shoulders. He looked small and broken, like he’d never feel warmth again. “Oh my God. This was…this was a mistake. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, turning and running out the bar.

“Jim, Jim wait!” McCoy called after him.

Spock and Uhura sank to their knees on the cold, wet ground.

“Human fucking beings,” Spock whispered, and Uhura was too upset to be surprised at the use of the foul language. “What on Earth more could we possibly do?”

“I am not giving up,” Uhura said as she beat the ground with her fists. “We will get this. I am not rolling over; we will be allowed to go home, Spock, I don’t care what kind of drastic measures it takes.”

Jim had sat in his car, unmoving. It was difficult to tell if he was crying or not. 

“We brought them together, we put them in jeopardy, we almost killed them both,” Uhura continued. “There has to be another way.”

“Perhaps we have failed,” Spock said as he removed his poncho. “I, however, refuse to live like this for another moment.”

Jim kicked the stereo of his car for some reason, but Uhura and Spock didn’t care. Spock gave Uhura a facemask and he put one on himself. They stalked down to Jim’s car, where “Somewhere, Beyond the Sea,” blared. Jim continued kicking the radio as if it offended him personally, and Spock tapped on the glass of his window.

Jim looked up at them with a curious expression, rolling the window down, and Spock sprayed him with mace.

Jim hacked and coughed as he pitched backwards towards the passenger seat. Uhura slid into the back and grabbed Jim by the neck, strangling him. “My beautiful poem,” she said as she pulled him into the back seat with her.

Spock turned the key in the ignition and drove, back to their warehouse.

Little did they realize that McCoy came out of the bar, and he saw them attack Jim and drive off.

\-----

The next day dawned at the Firm but Fair Collection and Eviction agency, and Jim sat tied to a chair and gagged with duct tape and bandages around his forehead.

“I do not believe your father will pay the ransom at first,” Spock said as he dialed a rotary phone. “Not until, perhaps, we send a few of your fingers to him via Priority Mail.”

Across from Jim at the table sat Uhura. She dealt blackjack for the both of them. “Let’s see,” she said as she flipped her cards over. “Oh, I’ve got sixteen. I think I’ll stay.” She then flipped Jim’s cards. “Hm, you only have five?”

From behind the gag, Jim made a muffed, “Mmmmhm mmmme.”

Uhura dealt him three more cards; they all added up to twenty. Jim snorted in delight from behind the gag.

“Now what…”

Jim shook his head no. “Mmmmhmmm.”

“You want another hit?” Uhura said, tilting her head to one said.

Jim shook his head again, more emphatically this time. “Mmmmooo.”

“You have a five-card trick,” Uhura continued. “You could walk away from this right now with four grand, you know.”

Jim got so animated he rocked the chair back and forth. “Mmmmmoonnt mmit memm.”

“But you want another hit,” Uhura said. “All right, I can’t tell you what to do.”

Jim bounced the chair up and down. “Mmmmooooo….”

There came a loud pounding at the door; all three of them turned towards it.

“Answer it, Uhura,” Spock said as he hung up the phone.

“I can’t, what if he cheats while I’m out of the room?” Uhura pointed at Jim, who rolled his eyes because really? He was bound and gagged.

Spock sighed, picking up a gun. He got up and walked out of the room. “I shall answer it then.” He rounded a corner and disappeared.

As an afterthought, Uhura pulled out her gun and placed it on the table. She turned her attention back to Jim and the game. ”Now, you said you want to increase your bet before taking the next hit? Is that right?”

Again, the shaking of Jim’s head was wild. “ _Mmmmoooooo_!”

Uhura took five hundred in chips from Jim. “Okay. It’s all on you.”

She dealt the final card; it was an ace.

Jim’s screams were as muffled as his words, and again the chair bounced up and down from his movement. He would have clapped his hands together if he could have. 

Uhura gave him a cold stare; she slid the bandage down over Jim’s eyes, blindfolding him. “It’s just as well that we’re not playing for real,” she said.

Jim made a frustrated noise, as there was a loud commotion from the room. He instinctively turned towards it, not knowing what went on. The distinctive sound of the safety being removed from a gun reverberated in the air, and Jim’s stomach dropped into his knees.

“All right, cut him loose,” Bones said.

Wait!

_Bones_?

“What the hell did you do to him?” Uhura said, and there was a sound like a person falling. 

“I cold-cocked him in the face,” Bones answered.

“Oh you cold-cocked him. How brave! He only weighs thirty pounds less than you!” Jim heard shuffling sounds, like someone was being put on a couch.

“He had a gun!” Bones said.

“Oh, he had a gun,” Uhura said, her tone mocking. “So that just magically makes everything okay.”

Bones sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying, I’m not using that as a justification for my actions. I’m just explaining that he pulled a gun on me. Hell, for all I knew, he was some kind of karate expert or something.”

“With a broken arm? _With a broken arm_?”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Bones said. The gun cocked a second time. “But cut him free, damn it, now!”

Someone came over to Jim and pulled off his gag. “Ah! Damn it! You son of a bitch!”

“Jim?” Bones sounded bewildered.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jim asked. 

“I’m trying to explain,” Bones said before making a strangled groan. There was a loud thud of something impacting against cardboard, and then came the sounds of wrestling. 

“Despite your shitty poem, I came to see you, swallowing my pride and for what? You to reject me and turn me away!” Jim said. “I thought you were different, Bones. I thought you weren’t like all the other men I’ve known. You’re just a liar and a cheat like all the rest!”

The sounds of the struggle continued. “Jim! I never meant to hurt you! Ow, damn it,” Bones said. “I don’t know who wrote that poem, but I’m telling you my feelings are real!”

There was a sound of a body hitting the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” Jim said. “Pull the other one.”

“It’s true Jim! Jim, I…” Bones groaned. “Ow, for fuck’s sake. When you left the bar, all I could think was that I let go of the man who I care for more than anyone on Earth. My life was nothing before you…now it’s exciting and happy! I think about you before bed, dream about you while I sleep, and think of you first thing when I wake up!”

The struggling started to slow down, and Jim looked towards Bones’ voice, praying his hope didn’t show on his face.

“Jim, in my dreams, my life is in danger. My heart beats so fast its stops. But then, you save me Jim! You save me by piercing my heart with an arrow of your love for me!”

The struggling stopped, and Bones panted, out of breath. Jim felt his face form a smile.

“Jim, what I’ve been trying to tell you is that… _I love you_ ,” Bones finished.

Uhura, who was also out of breath, spoke up. “What did you say? What did you just say?”

“I said, what I was trying to say is…”

He was cut off by the sound of a different gun being cocked.

Jim turned towards the noise, but not before Uhura said, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s going on?” Jim asked. “Who is that?”

“Don’t worry, sir,” said Robau. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

The gun went off twice, and two bodies hit the ground.

“Bones! Bones!” Jim struggled against the ropes as he attempted to free himself. Oh God, if Bones had gotten shot…

Another person slowly walked into the room. There was a long silence.

“Well, we’re not going to just leave them here, are we?” said Jim’s father.

“No sir,” Bones said, and Jim breathed a sigh of relief.

Wait.

His father?

Fuck.

\-----

Up in heaven, Pike finished his reports for the day. He was about to clock out when it happened.

A woman in an all-white meter maid’s outfit came bursting into his office, carrying a telegram. Without a word, she handed it to him.

Pike opened the telegram and read over its contents. Then he read them a second time. Then a third.

Swallowing, Pike turned to her. “I don’t think they’ll be coming back.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” the woman asked.

“It’s out of my hands,” Pike said.

The woman’s face became a disappointed frown. She turned and stormed out of his office.

“I don’t have the authority to intervene,” Pike called after her.

Alone again, all he could do was stare at the telegram. Well, no. There was something he could do. 

Pike reached out, picking up the handset of his phone. He dialed a number and waited. “Yeah, this is Pike. Get me God.”

The woman stood outside his office, looking in through the glass door.

There was a long pause. 

“No, sir,” Pike answered. “Sir, I just need…” Another pause.

It was no longer just the woman. A whole crowd gathered outside of Pike’s office. Their eyes bore holes in him as he continued the phone conversation.

Pike sighed. “Sir, with all due respect…how could _anything_ be beyond your control?”

Another pause. Some of the people outside of his office prayed.

“Yes,” Pike said. “No, sir.”

Another pause.

“Yes, sir,” Pike said, a smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, sir.”

Another pause.

“No, this was it,” Pike said. “I won’t disturb you again, sir.”

He hung up the phone, slamming his fists down on his desk.

“ _Yes!_ ” Pike shouted. “Yes!”

The crowd cheered outside his office, and Pike sat back in his chair, wiping his forehead with relief. 

He could still believe in miracles.

\-----

In the old cabin he and Jim borrowed, Leonard tore the bottom level apart.

“Oh, it’s…your money’s in the canoe, Mister Kirk,” he said, going over to the canoe. He pulled blankets and towels out of it, throwing them onto the floor. He really hoped the old man bought it, because Leonard was smart enough to know he was low on time.

George Kirk, cane in hand, sat at the kitchen table with a disapproving frown. For some reason, he kept his eyes focused on the female bounty hunter’s face.

“Oh, wait,” Leonard said. “It’s in the mattress upstairs. How could I have forgotten?” He climbed the stairs two at a time, tearing the loft apart like he did the canoe. “I’m sure your money’s just up here, Mister Kirk. I’ll find it in a second.”

Robau pulled out his gun, checking that the silencer was in place. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. I don’t think he has it.” Taking a step forward, a floorboard came up under Robau’s weight.

“That’s it!” Leonard said as he pointed. “That’s where the money is! It’s buried under the cabin!”

Leonard hobbled down the stairs, again two at a time, and ran as best he could over to the loose board. He lifted it, diving down under the house. Of course, the money wasn’t down there, but maybe he could find a way out of the cabin from underneath it, get Jim out of the trunk, and be gone.

“You just have to face it, Leonard,” Kirk shouted down to him. “You don’t have my money!”

“Oh it’s down here, all right,” Leonard said. “It’s just where I left it.” Leonard crawled under the house, approaching the far wall. Some of the stones looked loose, and he kicked a couple of them as an experiment.

“The money isn’t that important,” Kirk added. “It’s just a detail, really.”

Something was dragged along the floor overheard, but Leonard didn’t pay it any mind as he kicked the stones. One of them fell out, followed by a second. Yes!

“As long as you understand that it isn’t the money, it’s the _principle_ ,” Kirk finished.

Leonard kicked out enough stones to make his retreat. Before he could, the blade of an axe came crashing down the board, almost into his head. He turned and crawled to the right, trying to get out that way. It was to no avail; the axe again lodged itself in the wood in front of him.

_Mother-fucker_.

“Robau?” Kirk said. “Not with the axe. It’s undignified and sloppy.”

Robau reached down, grabbing Leonard by his shirt. “Right. Up you come,” he said, and Leonard thrashed in his grip. 

“So, Leonard,” Kirk said as he stood from the table. “What happened was you shot them,” he said with a gesture to the two Firm but Fair agents’ bodies. “And then you…” He stopped in midsentence, staring at the man. “Did…did he just move?”

“No, sir,” Robau said as he picked up his gun. Leonard continued to struggle, trying to figure out how he could get both him and Jim out of there. There didn’t seem to be any options left.

“Right,” Kirk said with a shake of his head. “You shot them and then you…” Now he stared at the woman. “She just moved. You have to have seen that.”

“Sir, I’m quite certain she didn’t move,” Robau said with a disbelieving look on his face.

Leonard looked at the bodies. Actually…had they moved? He couldn’t remember how they were positioned.

“Sir?” Robau said as Kirk continued the stare down the bodies. “If you please.”

“…Sure,” Kirk said, his eyes not leaving their faces. “Of course. They…they just moved again. Robau!”

“Sir, they are not moving,” Robau said with an exasperated sigh. “I would know. I shot them myself.”

Kirk wet his lips before turning his attention to Leonard. “You shot them, and then you shot yourself,” he said. “And then,” he continued, eyes looking upward. “You set fire to this cabin.”

Leonard blinked. Time was up. There was nothing more he could do. He closed his eyes, wishing he could tell Jim how sorry he was. Robau held him steady in front of him, aiming the gun at his temple.

The door kicked open. “Not yet, he didn’t,” Jim said as he burst through it, holding a gun in one hand.

In spite of his predicament, Leonard smiled.

“Jim?” Kirk said, turning to face his son. “How did you…? Never mind. Son, why don’t you just put the gun down?”

Jim stared at his father with no expression on his face or in his eyes. “Do not get in my way.”

“Jim, you’re not responsible for your actions,” Kirk said. “It’s Stockholm Syndrome. We’ll get you the help that you need, the finest counselors money can buy. Just like your mother.”

Jim’s eyes drifted from his father to Leonard. They focused on him, lighting up with relief.

“So why don’t we…” Kirk trailed off. He again stared at the corpses at the kitchen table. Remembering himself, his eyes darted back to Jim’s face. “Just give me the gun, Jim. Give Daddy the gun.”

Jim stared at Leonard for a while, and Leonard nodded his head. Jim aimed the gun right at Leonard’s chest. “Because as he dreamt, I shall save his life with an arrow. An arrow of my love for him.”

“ _Kill him, Robau_ ,” Kirk said.

Jim removed the safety, cocking the gun, and firing it. It hit Leonard straight through the heart.

Something happened though.

Instead of dying or even bleeding, the bullet passed through Leonard’s body as if he wasn’t even there; it made a hole, but nothing came out of it and no organs were struck. Behind him, Robau dropped to the ground with a low cry. A hole had formed in Leonard’s chest, but light streamed out of it. 

Kirk stared at Leonard in shock. “He’s alive, Robau.” Robau didn’t answer, too busy bleeding out and convulsing on the floor. “They’re…they’re all alive.”

Jim lowered the gun, a smile spreading across his face. Leonard smiled back, and the hole in his chest sealed tight. 

They had won.

 

_Epilogue_

“It’s drafty in here,” Jim said, curled up under the sheets and with his head pillowed on Bones’ chest.

“Well, our home was built in the twelfth century,” Bones answered. “Probably not a bad idea for us to use some of the money to update the heating.”

Indeed, they had found their money. Mysteriously, it was in the bed of the pick up they stole, even though neither of them recalled seeing it there the day with the murder attempt in the woods. Nonetheless, they grabbed it and took off, buying a castle in Scotland since it wasn’t a good idea for them to stay in the States.

Jim nodded his head, Bones’ arms wrapping tight around his waist. “So, run this crazy theory of yours by me one more time. You really think that some love connections are made in Heaven? And that they’re not based on practicalities like two people willing to tolerate each other’s imperfections for the rest of their lives?”

“It’s not just a successful relationship, Jim, you’re over-simplifying,” Bones answered. “It’s love. It comes from a strange and wonderful place we don’t know about.”

“So, if I’m understanding right,” Jim said, covering Bones’ hands with his own. “You reject the notion that love is nothing more than an emotional response to a physical drive.”

“Of course,” Bones answered, nuzzling Jim’s hair. 

Jim smiled, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re serious.”

“Fate intervenes in people’s lives,” Bones said. 

“Like ours, I suppose,” Jim said.

“Fate brought us together. It kept us together.” Bones sighed. “We’re destined, you and me.”

“Fate has a shit way of making a point,” Jim said with a chuckle.

Bones also laughed. He moved so that he lay on his side, looking down at Jim. “That’s the beauty of it, though. It’s inexplicable. It’s beyond our control or our ability to understand.”

“You nearly died,” Jim said, looking up into his eyes.

“But I didn’t, miraculously,” Bones said. “Just like Chapel miraculously freed you from the trunk of the car. And so, here we are.”

“You have no way to prove this, you realize?”

“Nope.” Bones didn’t sound put out by this fact; instead, he sounded pleased. 

“It’s absurd and irrational,” Jim continued. 

“I know,” Bones said.

“Then why do you believe it?”

“Because Jim, I’m a dreamer,” Bones said, leaning down for a kiss. Jim kissed him back, smiling into it.

“Well,” Jim said when they parted. “That makes us even, then.”

Bones grinned at him, kissing him again, and that was the end of the discussion.

\-----

The body bags sat on slabs in Heaven’s morgue. Pike stood over them with his arms crossed.

“You can come out now,” he said, and the bags moved. They unzipped from the inside, revealing Spock and Uhura in their all-white clothing. The two of them breathed heavily, struggling to regain air. “So. How was it?”

“I believe you are better off not asking,” Spock said as unzipped his bag all the way. Uhura hacked next to him.

“It worked,” Pike said with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Uhura said, regaining her normal coloring. “Love…worked.”

“ _Amaratus pactum laborium_ ,” Pike said with a smile.

“Can we go home now?” Uhura said, and her eyes were filled with hope.

“We’re going home,” Pike said, giving both of them a nod.

Uhura reached her hand out to the side, and Spock took it.

At last, everything was as it should be.


End file.
